


A Faint Heart Never Won the Lady Fair

by kitcat234



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 64,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitcat234/pseuds/kitcat234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hermione is left heartbroken, George goes to save her from depression & bring back her joy. But what happens when George starts falling for her against his will? Will he let her fall back into the arms of her ex or fight for the love he won't admit?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Hermione,” he said softly, his brow furrowed. He sat down next to her on the couch in her beloved apartment and took her hand in both of his. She looked into his eyes, into those beautiful, deep pools of molten silver and smiled. She loved him so much. She knew her friends didn’t support this, but she loved him, so that should have been reason enough to accept this. 

It had all started five years ago, when the war ended with the death of Voldemort and the capture of the Death Eaters. The Ministry, specifically Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was the new Minister of Magic, saw that Draco Malfoy and his mother Narcissa had been reluctant to go along with Voldemort’s dark plans. He knew of how Draco had lowered his wand when Dumbledore offered to help him, raising it only when the other Death Eaters arrived. He saw how, when Voldemort told the defenders of Hogwarts that Harry was dead, Draco had only moved forward to join Voldemort after his mother had asked him. He knew of Narcissa’s lie and Draco’s compliance, both done to protect the other, and excused them of all charges held against them. They had even joined in the rebuilding of Hogwarts, where Hermione met a completely different young man than the one she had known at school. He had apologized for his actions and they had slowly become friends. Eventually, that friendship had blossomed into romance, and that romance into love. Five years later, here they were, and Hermione was ecstatic, almost positive she knew what he was going to talk to her about.

He made circled on the back of her hand with his thumb, his eyes downcast and his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Yes?” she asked, smiling at him as she ran her free hand through his silky blonde hair.

He sighed and looked up, a deeply sad look in his eyes. “I-,” he gulped, then continued. “I can’t do this.”

“You can’t do what, love?” she said, a small smile still gracing her lips.

“I can’t-, I think-, We have to-,” he squeezed his eyes shut, as though in pain, and opened them again, finally looking straight at her. “I can’t do this anymore.”

The smile slid off Hermione’s face as she looked at him in utter confusion. “Can’t do what anymore?”

“This,” he said again, gesturing to the two of them. “I think we should stop-”

“Wait,” she interjected suddenly, almost laughing. “Are you breaking up with me?” She looked at him, a small smile on her face and her eyebrows raised, incredulous. He, on the other hand, had a tortured look on his face.

“Yes,” he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

“WHAT?!” she shouted, wrenching her hand from his grasp. “WHY?”

“It’s just, you’re always off at school and I’m out of the country all the time for work, and I’m being promoted, which will require me to be away for months at a time, and-”

“What, this is about work? You’re breaking up with me because we both have busy jobs?”

“No, it’s not just that, it’s-”

Hermione gasped suddenly, her eyes wide. “Oh my god, it’s another woman. Is that it? Are you leaving me for someone else? Is that why you’re gone all the time?”

Draco’s eyes went wide at the insinuation, and cut in, saying, “NO! Hermione, it’s not another-”

“Oh my god. Oh my god! You’ve been cheating on me! I can’t believe it! How could you-”

“HERMIONE!” he bellowed, standing up. She started and stared at him, eyes wide and mouth still hanging open from yelling.  
“I am not seeing another woman! I am not cheating on you! I never have. You know I have to be out of the country all the time for work. That’s part of the job requirement for being a part of the International Confederation of Wizards. You know that. And-”

“How would I know? I’ve never been to your work! How do I know you’re not just avoiding me? You could be seeing some hussy fr-”

“DAMMIT HERMIONE!” he yelled, flushing angrily. “This is why! You never listen! You decide on something, even if it’s completely false, and you fixate on it and shut out everyone else’s opinions! Only you matter! I can’t do this anymore! I love you, but I can’t deal with this any longer. We never see each other, and when we do, you pick fights about the stupidest, most insignificant things. You always have to be right and you are incapable of accepting the possibility that you might, Merlin forbid, be wrong.”

By this point, Hermione had stood up, watching red-faced and furious as her boyfriend paced about the sitting room. “YOU COMPLETE ARSE, DRACO MALFOY!” He whipped around and stared at her as she seemed to puff up with anger and her hair seemed to crackle with electricity. “I thought you were going to propose, and instead you’re breaking up with me?!”

His eyes went wide, and some of the color drained from his face. “P-propose?”

“YES. PROPOSE. And instead of finding myself a happily engaged woman, I’m suddenly finding myself single because I work a lot.”

“Because you-? Good Godric, did you not hear a word I said before?! Wait, why am I even asking that? Of course you didn’t. You were probably so wrapped up in preparing what you were going to say that you didn’t listen to a word I said. Why should I be surprised? You never do! You are so focused and in your own little world that we never have any fun anymore. We never talk anymore. I got that promotion a week ago, and you completely blew it off to rant to me about some student of yours turning his friend’s ears into conch shells. Which was fixed ten minutes later, thank you ever so much. But no, you had to rant about this and pick fights about that. Sometimes I doubt you even love me anymore. You just love arguing with me.”

“Fine! You want to talk? Let’s talk,” she sat down on the couch, her back as straight as a rod and her arms folded across her chest. 

“No,” he said firmly. Hermione looked into the deep silver eyes she had fallen in love with four years ago, and saw they were no longer warm and sparkling, but a cold, impenetrable steel grey. He looked at her, halfway torn between sadness and anger, and shook his head. “I can’t do this anymore. I refuse to fight with you anymore. I’m done.”

And with a _crack!_ , he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione stared at the spot where Draco had just been, frozen in her stiff and haughty position. Suddenly, as the realization of everything washed over her, she crumpled. She began to sob on the couch, gasping to bring air into lungs that felt like they were on fire. How could this have happened? How could she have gone so wrong? She knew they were both fiery personalities, and that sometimes they butted heads, but how had it gone so wrong that five years of friendship and four years of love had left her single and filled with anger and sadness?

She lay down across the couch, hugging a pillow to her chest, trying to do anything to control herself. But, as her body was wracked by sobs, she realized exactly what her problem was: she always needed control. Wasn't that why she and Ron had always had their spats? Wasn't that why she had been so terrified when on the run with Harry and Ron? She needed control over her life, over situations, over everything. And that lack of control made her lash out because she was frightened. Frightened of not being in control. Frightened more of the fact that people might see her fear. Frightened they might be able to use it against her.

Hermione had always prided herself on her quick thinking, her intelligence, her kindness, and her bravery. She was a Gryffindor after all. If she was scared, she kept it inside and became stronger because of it. A familiar tune suddenly ran through her head, sung almost mockingly, as if laughing at her actions. _You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart. Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart._

Hermione cried harder. She cried for about an hour more, until there were no more tears to shed, until her wracking sobs had turned to shallow, shaky breaths and she was too drained to continue. As she lay in her sitting room on her sofa, she started drifting off to sleep, exhausted from all of her crying.

 

 

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

Hermione's eyes snapped open at the noise and she sat up quickly, her head spinning. She felt nauseous and wondered if she had a hangover, because it certainly felt like it. She thought back to the night before, and the previous night's events hit her like a ton of bricks. Tears immediately started streaming from her eyes as she remembered everything that had been said and done.

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

Her eyes snapped to the door, remembering why she had awoken. She got up unsteadily, hurriedly wiping the tears from her cheeks and went to answer the door. She opened it and came face to face with Minerva McGonagall, the headmistress of Hogwarts.

"Good morning, Professor Granger, I was wondering if- Hermione, what's wrong?" She halted and dropped her brisk tone as she saw the Transfiguration Professor standing in front of her, curly hair falling out of its braid, her eyes bloodshot, and her face puffy and streaked with tear tracks.

"I-, I just-. N-nothing's w-wrong, Minerva. I-I'm fine," Hermione replied, trying to keep her voice level but failing dismally as the words caught in her throat.

McGonagall gave her searching look before guiding Hermione back into the apartment. As they sat down on the couch, McGonagall summoned two cups of tea. "Here, dear," she said softly, handing one to Hermione. "Now tell me what's wrong."

Before she knew it, the words were pouring out of her mouth. How she had thought he was going to propose. How they never got to see each other, so how was she to know something was wrong? How she had accused him of infidelity. What he had said about her. How lost she felt. As she struggled through the story and occasionally sipped her tea to calm herself, McGonagall sat, listening quietly. When the story had finished, she smiled kindly at Hermione.

"Miss Granger, why don't you take this week off. I'll have someone cover your class."

Hermione looked at the headmistress in shock. Hermione had never taken a day off of work. "But Professor-"

"Hermione, I insist. Take the week off and get yourself back together. You've earned a break and Merlin knows you need one. Why don't you head home and relax. Hogwarts will still be here when you get back."

"But-" Hermione argued feebly.

"Hermione," said McGonagall sternly.

"Thank you, Minerva," she said quietly, looking down at the now empty mug that was clasped in her hands.

McGonagall stood up suddenly, and her usual brisk manner returned. "Well, I'm off. There is a substitute professor to be found and classes to be taught in the meanwhile. Take care of yourself, Miss Granger. We'll see you back in a week." She sent Hermione a rare smile and swiftly walked out of the room, leaving Hermione staring at the closed door, still processing everything that had been said.

 

 

Hermione took one look around her spotless quarters in Hogwarts, and sighed. She picked up her trunk and her bag and headed out, to Hogsmeade, where she could apparate to the apartment she had shared with Ginny before she had gotten married. As she walked silently through the halls of her alma mater, she looked around, her mind filled with the memories it provoked, both good and bad. She tried to hold back tears as she passed the statue that she had gotten stuck behind while trying to adjust it and Draco had had to rescue her. She walked down the stairways that she had tread millions of times over the past twelve years and remembered the battle that had taken place, and the bodies that had been strewn across the stairs and halls. She got down to the Entrance Hall and saw the place where Draco had kissed her for the first time, and her eyes began to water as she remembered that fateful day four years ago.

_Hermione job currently was making sure the statues and portraits were in good condition. There was a corner of the Entrance Hall that was barely noticed, as it was almost always blanketed in shadow. As she made her way over to the corner, she heard slow footsteps from somewhere behind her. She didn't bother turning around, sure the person was simply headed in or out of the castle._

_"Lumos," she whispered quietly as she began to survey the walls for any damage. There were not many pictures over here, but there was a statue of a famous wizarding philosopher, his hand raised to the heavens as if making a proclamation, that was missing a number of digits, making what was meant to be a serious looking sculpture quite comical, as the only fingers remaining were his pointer and middle ones. Hermione chuckled to herself, and suddenly stopped as she heard someone else chuckling from behind her. She whirled around to see Draco Malfoy, who was looking at the statue, the corner of his mouth tugged up into a reluctant grin._

_"Well, that's rather rude, isn't it?" he said, his smile evident in his voice. Hermione looked back at the statue again and smiled._

_"Rather. He'd probably like the rest of his fingers back."_

_Malfoy's face suddenly donned an evil grin. "Well, I think it looks better this way. Much more amusing. Think of all the new students he flips off without their knowledge."_

_"Draco!" she cried, half-appalled, half-amused. He grinned at her and moved a step closer to her. She backed up a step, her back hitting the wall._

_"Hermione!" he mocked her, a handsome smile on his face. He took a small step closer to her._

_"That's terrible! It's people like you that are the reason first years are so terrified of everything."_

_"Oh dear. Having first years scared of the older kids who they would potentially annoy anyways? How utterly terrible." His voice dripped with sarcasm, yet the warm smile remained. He stepped closer, and was now only a foot from Hermione. Not sure why she was feeling suddenly nervous, she began babbling, as she was prone to do when anxious._

_"It is terrible. It's quite terrible. You really shouldn't treat the first years like that. Not that you go here anymore because you graduated. Well, so did I but I mean that-"_

_"Don't you ever shut up?" he asked, smiling at her. Suddenly, his lips were on hers and the words she had been about to say died in her throat as she wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling one of his arms wrap around her waist as the other hand gently held the back of her neck._

"Professor Granger!"

Hermione snapped back to the present, suddenly realizing she had been staring at that corner for what had probably been a good amount of time. She looked around and saw Darcy Ravensdale, a third year Hufflepuff and one of her brightest students.

"Yes, Miss Ravensdale?" she asked, hitching a smile onto her face.

"Professor, I was just wondering if you could suggest any books that might help with understanding the theory behind switching spells. The textbook simply isn't enough and I think the reason I'm having difficulty is that I don't completely comprehend the theory."

Now Hermione remembered why she liked this girl so much – she reminded Hermione of herself at Hogwarts. Hermione thought hard for a moment, then replied, "Transfiguration Topics in Theory by Thorton Trumpington should be of help. If that's not enough, ask Professor McGonagall. She's sure to know. Possibly Madame Pince as well."

"Professor, where are you going, if you don't mind me asking?"

Hermione hesitated for a second before replying cheerfully, "A quick trip. Family business. I'll be back next week though."

"Well, I hope everything goes well. And thank you for the book suggestion. I'll see you next week!" She smiled warmly at her professor before heading off, her jet black curls bouncing as she walked.

Hermione felt her face fall from its smile as the girl headed off, and she set off out the doors of Hogwarts, making a concentrated effort not to look at that corner as she left. She made it to Hogsmeade, silently thanking the powers that be that she came across no one else she knew, and paused to catch her breath outside of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which had expanded to Hogsmeade after its meteoric success in Diagon Alley. She spun on her heel, holding her bags tightly, and disapperated. Little did she know that a redheaded someone inside the shop had seen her crumpled form and sad expression before she disappeared into thin air.


	3. Chapter 3

"Baby?" There was no response. "Harry?" Still no response. Ginny sighed exasperatedly and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face, rolling her eyes when it fell right back. "This bloody house…" she muttered as she got up slowly, wincing as her joints screamed in protest.

At the Holyhead Harpies' last match, Ginny had taken a bad fall after some wench had rammed her so hard that she had lost her grip on the broom and fallen. The girl had hit her in such a way that, when she grabbed for the broom to save her from falling, Ginny's shoulder had popped completely out of the socket. She let go from the pain of it and almost passed out, but thankfully, one of the Mediwizards had done a cushioning charm right as she was about to hit the ground. She had been quickly attended to and her shoulder had been popped back into place, but the Mediwizards said there was nothing they could do about bruising to the muscles except give her a potion for the pain. Harry, convinced that she should try to limit her use of that arm, had bought her a muggle sling and forced her to wear it. She hated it, and hated even more that she couldn't fly for the next month.

"I'm going to go stark-raving mad, cooped up in this house. Can't even find anyone in this bloody house. Too many effing floors." As she muttered to herself, she wandered up the stairs, checking every room as she passed for Harry. She finally found him on the top floor, sifting through boxes in the attic. He looked up when she rapped her knuckles on the doorframe and smiled at her.

"Hey, Gin. What's up?"

"What are you doing up here? It took me forever to find you!" She looked around and picked up a random felt box.

"I've been trying to get rid of things. The Order cleared out a lot, but they put most of the odd and sinister stuff up here. That's a cursed ring, like the one Dumbledore touched that burnt his hand." Ginny, who had just been opening the ring box, snapped it shut and quickly dropped it back onto the dusty desk next to her. "How's your arm doing, love?"

"Simply awful. I hate this torture device! Can't I just take it off?"

Harry smiled at her and moved forward to wrap his arms around her. "It's not a torture device, Gin, it's a sling. And no, you need to rest your arm. And I know you; if it were up to you, you'd rip off that sling and rush to get on your Firebolt."

"But it's new and shiny and I haven't broken it in yet!" she wheedled, putting on puppy-dog eyes and trying to look as cute and pathetic as possible.

Harry grinned and shook his head. "We've been together for over five years. You think you can get away with that so easily?"

Ginny pretended to pout. "Well, it was worth a try." Harry chuckled and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"So, what are you up to today? You're probably dying to get out of the house by now."

"You know me so well, Harry," she said, smiling at him. "I was thinking of heading over to the old apartment. You know, just check on it and make sure everything's okay. I know Hermione's not home until Christmas, but I want to make sure everything's taken care of for her."

"Alrighty." He disappeared as he dove into another cavernous box. "What are we doing for dinner tonight?" came from the box like an echo.

"I'll let you know when I figure it out," she said, laughing at his antics. "Bye!"

"Bye!"

 

 

With a _crack!_ , Ginny appeared in the living room of her old apartment and heard a shrill scream. She screamed, both scared at the noise and the fact that someone was already there. She looked around and saw only a lump of blankets on the sofa. She stopped screaming, and realized the screaming had come from the lump which, on closer inspection, turned out to be Hermione.

"Hermione! You nearly gave me a heart attack! What are you doing here?" She surveyed Hermione and noticed Hermione's presence was not the only thing off. Hermione's hair was tangled and bushy, as though she hadn't tried to comb it for days, her face was red and blotchy, and she was in pajamas and cocooned in the huge quilt from the bed.

"Sorry Gin, I didn't expect you to come over." Her voice sounded raspy and deeper, as though she had screamed herself hoarse.

"Didn't expect me? What are you doing here? Isn't school still in session?"

"Minerva had me take a week off." She would not look directly at Ginny, but instead focused her gaze at Ginny's stomach.

"Why do you need a week off? What happened, Mione?" She walked over, sitting down next to the mass of quilt that was Hermione. Hermione finally looked at her and Ginny looked into sad brown eyes that were bloodshot and puffy.

"He broke up with me," she whispered as a tear trailed down her face and dripped off her chin. Hermione made no move to wipe it.

"Oh, Hermione," said Ginny, immediately going into her mothering Molly mode. She wiped the tear away and opened her arms, into which Hermione fell heavily, sobbing. Ginny had never been a fan of Malfoy. Sure, he was good looking, but he was the biggest wanker known to mankind. No amount of sexiness would excuse that. All of that didn't matter now. All that mattered was that her best friend's heart had been ripped apart and stomped on, and she needed someone to make everything better. "Come here and tell Momma Ginny all about it."

 

 

Ginny had stayed over for the rest of the week with Hermione, making sure she was okay. Harry would usually come over to bring Hermione her favorite pastries for breakfast and have dinner with them, but would head home to Grimmauld Place during the day to repair the house. He had decided to try and fix it up the muggle way, and Ginny thought he was a nutter for doing so, but it made him happy, so she never mentioned it.

Ginny had turned into her mother when faced with the challenge of cheering up Hermione. She made her delicious meals and forced her to eat them when Hermione morosely said that she wasn't hungry. She made sure Hermione was actually showering, brushing her hair, and taking care of herself, which she hadn't been doing the three days previous to Ginny's arrival. Ginny could relate to Hermione, having gone through a spell like this when Harry left her to go hunt for horcruxes, but by the sixth day of Hermione being home, Ginny was ready to smash her head repeatedly into a brick wall, thinking it might be more fun than her present situation. Breakups she could understand, being heartbroken she could understand. Going over conversations for the fiftieth time she could even understand. But trying to go back through the five year relationship and try and pinpoint exactly at what date or specific event it all went downhill was not something Ginny was going to sit back and enjoy being a part of.

On Hermione's last day, Ginny got her ready, packed up clean clothes for her, and sent her off with a hug and a promise of visiting soon and making sure they had a girls' night. As soon as Hermione had flooed back to Hogwarts, Ginny apparated away.

 

 

George had just made himself a cup of tea and was just sitting down on the couch when a loud crack! startled him.

"AAUUGGHH!" The mug flew across the room and shattered, spilling tea everywhere. He looked over, wide-eyed, and found his sister standing in the middle of his apartment, a determined look on her face.

"We need to talk."


	4. Chapter 4

George stared at his sister, who was suddenly glaring at him from the middle of his sitting room.

"What? What did I do? I didn't do it, whatever it was. Don't hex me." He watched her warily, his hand surreptitiously on his wand in case she was going to hex him from a prank he might have pulled.

Ginny rolled her eyes, moving to sit down on the couch as he got up to clean up the spilt tea. "You didn't do anything. That's what I need to talk to you about. You need to do something."

He looked at her, confused, as he picked up the now-repaired mug from the now-dry floor. He placed it in the sink and walked back towards her, carrying his piece of toast he had forgotten in the kitchen. "Alright," he said slowly, the sarcasm evident in his voice. "So we know I'm involved. And there's an action verb involved somehow. We're off to a good start. Care to add in any more nouns or adjectives?"

"Git. How do you like that noun? Now hush up and let me explain."

"Alright," he said, sitting down next to her and munching on his toast.

"This is not the time for breakfast, George!" she said, smacking his hand.

"Actually, if you look at the clock, it is! Remarkable isn't it, how breakfast happens in the morning? It blew my mind." He grinned at her, and went back to eating his toast.

"George, this is serious! Stop it!" She snatched the toast from his hand and threw it across the room.

"OI! What is with you and throwing my breakfast around this morning, eh?"

"It's Hermione," she said seriously.

"No," he said slowly, as if talking to someone not quite bright. "You're the one who threw my toast and your name is Ginny. OI! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?" The last part he exclaimed, clutching his head with his right hand. "WHY'D YOU SMACK ME?"

"I NEED YOU TO LISTEN! THIS IS SERIOUS!" shouted an equally red-faced Ginny.

There was a pause before Ginny muttered apologetically, "I'm sorry for hitting you."

"I'm sorry for not listening," muttered George, leaning back into the couch. "Please continue."

 

 

As Ginny explained in grueling detail about Hermione's breakup and the week she had spent with her, George thought about the situation. He had never liked the Malfoys, nor did the rest of his family, but he had held a special contempt for Draco. He had bullied Ron, Hermione and Harry for years, not to mention his father was the one that slipped Riddle's diary to Ginny. He didn't care what Narcissa or Malfoy might have done; that family was no good, right down to the core. He had heard something of Hermione dating Malfoy from Ron shouting about it to Harry one day at the Burrow.

_"Holding his hand! His hand, Harry! And snogging!"_

_"You've seen them snogging?" said Harry, a disgusted look on his face._

_"No!" Ron blustered. "But I know they have! Coming back from 'checking the statues' and whatnot, with her hair all messed up and her face all red."_

_"Ron, I thought you didn't like Hermione. I thought you two talked about it and decided to stay friends."_

_"THAT'S NOT THE POINT, HARRY! The point is that she's dating the Ferrett! Being friends with him was ridiculous enough, but DATING him?"_

_Harry ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. "I know, Ron. I don't trust him, same as you. But if he makes her happy…"_

_"HE CAN'T! After all the things he said to her and about her at school? After all he's done? NO! I won't allow it!" Ron strode angrily about the room, his face as red as a beet._

_"I feel the same as you, Ron, but you're not the one who can decide who she dates any more than I am. I'm afraid we just have to accept it and try to support her when it all goes downhill."_

_"When?" said a sly voice from the hall. Harry and Ron turned to see George leaning in the doorway, watching them in mild interest, his arms crossed. "For being so calm about this, you're certainly not taking a positive stance on it, Harry."_

_"I feel just like Ron. Upset, untrusting, almost a little betrayed. But she's our best friend, and we can't forget that. Although I'm sure it won't end well, I'll make sure I'm there if she needs me."_

_George looked at Harry, at the lines on his brow, at the worried look in his eyes, and smiled slightly. "You're a good friend to her, Potter."_

_Harry smiled back. "Well, she's been one to me."_

He had seen her outside his shop and had moved to go talk to her, but she had disapperated away. He had seen how she looked sad, exhausted, and almost…well, the only word he could think of to describe it was 'deflated.'

"So that's where you come in!" said Ginny happily.

"Whoa whoa whoa," said George, sitting up quickly and holding up his hand to silence her. "Why am I being dragged into this? I haven't seen Hermione in almost five years. Why not Harry or Ron?"

"See, now I'm glad you asked! There are a few reasons. First, they're too close to the situation and they're too biased." As she spoke, she ticked off reasons on her fingers matter-of-factly.

"And I'm not biased? His father tried to kill you, Gin!" interjected George angrily.

"Yes, but Ron has always been indelicate about situations like this. And Harry has already tried and failed. Second reason," she continued, as though she had never been interrupted. "-is that you're the best person I know at bringing a smile to people's faces."

"She thinks my inventions are rubbish," interrupted George again.

"Good Godric, am I going to have to smack you again to get you to shut up?"

"Sorry," mumbled George.

"Thank you," Ginny said huffily. "She didn't think your inventions were rubbish. She just didn't like you testing them on first years. ANYWAYS, she's in a right state, and if anyone can cheer her up, it's you. So you're going to go cheer her up." She smiled and nodded, as though that settled everything.

"Ginevra Weasley, are you trying to pimp me?" George looked at her, eyebrows raised and arms crossed. Ginny burst into laughter before regaining her composure.

"Yes," she replied simply. Now it was George's turn to laugh.

"S-seriously? You want my next project to be cheering up Hermione after her breakup?"

"Now listen to what you just said and think about it," said Ginny slowly, making her voice as persuasive as possible. "I just gave you a challenge. Hermione is in a heavy depression and it's your mission to bring laughter back into her life." She watched George and could practically see the cogs working in his head. "Fred would have thought of it as a wicked challenge," she said quietly, watching George's face for his reaction. His eyes went watery and he pressed his lips together as if trying to hold his composure.

"You had to play the Fred card," he said, his voice shaky.

"You know it's true though," whispered Ginny.

George shook his head and brought his left arm back, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine. I'll do it."

Ginny squealed happily and hugged him tightly. "You won't regret it! I promise!"

"I do already," he said, smiling as he hugged her back. When Ginny sat back down, George clapped his hands together. "Well, if I'm going to do this, I'm going to do this right. Let's get started. Tell me everything you know about Hermione."


	5. Chapter 5

After saying goodbye to Ginny, Hermione stepped into the emerald flames and in a moment, stepped out, rather clumsily, into her sitting room in Hogwarts. She looked around, making sure everything was where she had left it last, and then went into her room to go get ready for class.

 

During her classes, Hermione was not herself. She went through the motions and lectured on the different spells, demonstrating them and explaining how to execute them, but when the students began to practice, she did not walk around, giving advice and guidance as she usually did, but simply sat at her desk, staring unseeingly at the textbooks and lesson plans on her desk.

After lunch, she taught the fifth years, who veered between the extremes of having nervous breakdowns from paranoia about the O.W.L.s or completely goofed off, paying little attention to preparation for the exams that were months and months away. After explaining the theory and demonstrating it, she distributed snails to every student and set them the task of using the Vanishing Spell to vanish their snails.

"Now, the snail, as an invertebrate, is the most simple in regards to vanishing living beings. Once you have mastered this, we will be moving onto a small, but vertebrate mammal. So everyone can get-"

Her speech was interrupted by a rapping on the window pane of the classroom. Everyone looked over to see one of the post owls from the Post Office in Hogsmeade. "Everyone get started," she finished before walking over to the window and opening it for the owl. It fluttered in and landed on her desk, looking at her with its deep brown eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she asked the owl, not worried about being overheard as the whole class was shouting "Evanesco" in different decibels of frustration. "You couldn't have come with the morning post?" The owl looked at her reproachfully, as if to chastise her for being ungrateful for her service. Hermione stroked the owl's feathers, calming it, before untying the small package from its leg. It took off as soon as it was free of its burden and soared out the open window and across the bright October sky. Hermione watched its path before turning back to the small package that was wrapped in neat brown paper.

Her head snapped up as she heard a yell, followed by many noises of disgust. Somehow, one of the boys in her class had, instead of vanishing the snail, had made it swell to ten times its size and changed it to an obnoxious shade of orange. As she walked towards to fix the problem, the boy prodded the snail with his wand, trying to repair the damage, but instead of shrinking, the snail exploded, bright orange goo covering everyone in proximity. Hermione grimaced as she was hit by the goo and her ears were assaulted by the shrieks of the girls in the class that had as well. She sighed exasperatedly before waving her wand, the goo vanishing and leaving the room and the students spotless.

"Though I appreciate you having me demonstrate the usefulness of the Vanishing Spell in situations like this, Mister O'Connell, I would appreciate that you focus next time on watching the wand movements that go along with the spell, as that would have prevented the enlargement and combustion of your snail. Now please come up to the front and select a new snail. And try not to explode this one, Mister O'Connell. And Miss Burns, please stop with the dramatics, I vanished the goo quite a while ago."

Hermione was convinced Ryan O'Connell must somehow be related to Seamus Finnegan; they shared the same propensity for explosions. Shaking her head, she walked back up to the front of the class and sat down at her desk. After scanning the room to make sure no more disasters were brewing, she looked down at her desk, her eyes falling on the small package. She opened it slowly, and saw a package of one of Hermione's favorite candies, Sugar Quills, with a small note attached. Hermione unfolded the note and saw a vaguely familiar handwriting. The note was simple and read,

_I know you never stop working, so here's something to sweeten your day._

Hermione smiled slightly as she read the note. She knew it was not from one of her close friends, she knew their handwriting quite well, but knew this handwriting was somehow slightly familiar to her. She gave a small smile as she folded the note back up and put the candies and the note in her pocket. She checked her watch and saw that it was time for class to end.

"Alright class," she called. "Bring your snails up to the front and put them back in this box. Homework: go over the theory again and practice vanishing small objects. We will be moving on to small mammals, so make sure you can vanish small invertebrate or inanimate objects. Have a good day." She smiled slightly and nodded her head at the murmurs of "Bye Professor" as they passed her desk, depositing their snails. She got up and walked around the classroom, stretching her legs and making sure no snails had been abandoned. By the time her seventh years walked in for the final period of the day, Hermione was exhausted, not from having exerted herself, but more from forcing herself to keep going, keep smiling, and pretending that this was just another day of lessons.

By the end of the day, Hermione was drained, having tried, during dinner at the teachers' table, to politely avoid conversation with both Neville and Luna whilst resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the fact that they were both mad for the other, yet too scared to say anything. Usually, Hermione found it quite adorable and endearing that they were still so shy about it after having known each other for so long and having gone through so much together, but today, in her heartbroken state, she just found it aggravating that there they were, with someone who fancied them, and she was here, upset, constantly on the verge of tears, and slightly bitter at their happiness. As she walked back to her office to pick up her books to check over her lesson plans for tomorrow, her mind was elsewhere, remembering when she walked these halls as a student.

_As she walked with Harry and Ron, she was only partly cognizant of their conversation, as she was trying to remember how long her Arithmancy essay had been and if it would be sufficient. She was drowning out their conversation about Quidditch. She didn't know what it was about Quidditch they were talking about, as they did it so often it wasn't terribly interesting to her anymore. She wasn't paying much attention to where she was walking, nor were the boys, as they were all too involved in their own thoughts, when she crashed into someone, her books spilling onto the floor._

_"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!" she said automatically, dropping quickly to pick up her fallen books._

_"Watch where you're going, Granger!" an all too familiar voice said scathingly. She looked up from her crouching position and saw bright silver shining through the artfully messy blonde hair that fell into his eyes. She gave him a disapproving look and ignored the comment as she continued picking up her books that were scattered among his on the ground, hearing Harry and Ron responding angrily to Malfoy's comment. Their hands brushed as they reached for their books and, shocked, they both looked up quickly at each other. Hermione was more shocked to see that behind the familiar sneer that constantly graced his face, his eyes were not cruel or harsh, but rather questioning, looking into her eyes with a curious, but strangely warm expression. He held her gaze for only a second before getting up swiftly._

_"If it's possible, try and keep your nose out of a book long enough to see where you're going, Granger." He kicked one of her books down the hallway and smirked, Crabbe and Goyle guffawing stupidly. She glared at him as she stood up, clutching her books to her chest, and again saw that piercing look scan her face before he turned and walked away._

_"What an effing git! Harry, why did you hold me back?" shouted Ron, the tips of his ears bright red._

_Harry glared at Malfoy's retreating back before saying in a voice of forced calm, "We're right near the dungeons. You know if we had even drawn our wands, Snape would have come out of nowhere and given us detentions."_

_"Don't worry about it, guys," said Hermione soothingly. "He's not worth it. Now if I could just find-" She turned around, planning on heading down the hallway to find the book Malfoy had kicked away, when she found her path blocked by a broad sweater-clad chest. She looked up and saw a pair of dark blue eyes sparkling down at her, a few strands of flaming red hair falling into his face._

_"Looking for this, Granger?" said George with a smile. He held out her Ancient Runes book, but as she moved to take it, he pulled it back. She looked up at his, her eyebrow raised, and smiled in spite of herself._

_"Thank you for retrieving my book. Now may I have it back, George?"_

_"It's Fred, but you're welcome." He handed the book back to her with a grin._

_She folded her arms, and smirked slightly at him. "No, it's George, and thank you again. Now if you could kindly stop blocking my way…"_

_"How do you know I'm not George," asked his twin, breaking off from his conversation with Harry and Ron, his face splitting into an identical grin._

_"Because, unlike most people, I can tell the difference." With that, she smiled and tried to walk around George. He put out an arm, and rested it lightly on her shoulder, effectively halting her. She turned, and was surprised to see his face rather close to hers. Harry, Ron, and Fred had not noticed this, as they had resumed their conversation, probably continuing on the topic of Quidditch. She saw those cobalt eyes, so deep and kaleidoscopic, searching her face, so intensely it was almost as if she was being x-rayed._

_"I'm going to find out how you do it, Hermione," he whispered, almost like a challenge. He winked at her before straightening up and turning back to his twin, as though that moment of intensity had never happened. It took Hermione a moment to collect herself before she said, "Harry, Ron, if you two don't hurry up we're going to be late." As they said their quick goodbyes to the twins and began to head down the hall to class, she glanced back over her shoulder and saw both twins watching their retreating backs, one twin's ultramarine blue eyes gazing after her, studying her as if she was a puzzle he was desperate to solve._

Absorbed in memories, she was startled when she realized she had walked right to the door to her office, her feet having done what her mind had failed to do. She opened the door and went to her desk to collect her lesson plans. She walked to her room, her arms laden with papers and textbooks, her mind again swimming with memories. When she finally came back to reality, she realized she had made it all the way to her rooms, and was sitting on her couch. A little confused at her ability to tread the halls so well without thought, she set her books down. As she went to pick up her lesson plans for her first years, an envelope fell out and fluttered to the ground. She picked up the unfamiliar letter, and opened it. She unfolded the letter inside and again, there was the handwriting that was so familiar, yet so unknown.

_Try not to get too lost in the past, Hermione. You'll let the excitement of the now pass you by. Never overlook the fact that there are people who care about you, even if you don't know it._

On the ground was another piece of paper, which had fallen out when she had opened the note. She picked it up and saw it was a photo of her, Ron, Harry, and Ginny the summer of their sixth year. Harry had his arms slung loosely around Hermione's and Ron's shoulders, his fingers lightly brushing Ginny's shoulder, as she wrapped her arm around Hermione's waist. They were all laughing at something, that kind of bellyaching laugh that gives you stitches in your sides and tears in your eyes, all the while trying to compose themselves enough to take the picture. As Hermione rested her head lightly on Harry's chest, trying and failing to stop laughing, Harry glanced quickly over her head and smiled warmly at Ginny, who met his gaze and smiled back, a slight longing in her eyes. Ron, oblivious to the moment his sister and best friend were sharing, wiped his eyes happily before smiling again at the camera.

Hermione smiled at the picture, having forgotten about that day, and tried to remember who had taken that picture. She looked back at the note and stared at it quizzically. Her office was locked with complex spells. How had someone gotten in and hidden this note among her papers?

That night, as she drifted off to sleep, her dreams were not nightmares filled with steel gray eyes that were filled with malice and the stabbing pain of misery, but was instead filled with mysterious notes, a boy with deep blue eyes, and scattered memories of that sixth year summer.

She did not remember her dream in the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

Two days after the arrival of the Sugar Quills, another small package had come for Hermione, this time with the morning post owls. After untying the package from the owl's leg, it flew off, and as she turned back to the package, she heard a dreamy voice next to her speak up.

"You look surprised, Hermione. You weren't expecting this package?"

Hermione looked up and smiled at Luna, who was watching her with her protuberant, silvery gray eyes.

"No, I wasn't, actually. I got two packages from someone, well, one package and one letter, from someone a few days ago and I don't know who's been sending them."

"What were they? The packages?" Luna asked before taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Umm, a package of Sugar Quills with a note about having a sweet day, and a letter that told me-," Hermione faltered, wondering if she should get into a delicate topic such as this with Luna. She had become much closer to the spacey blonde when they had both begun teaching at the school, but sometimes she worried about bringing up certain topics with her. She had a habit of voicing the exact things you were trying to not admit to yourself. "Well, it had a picture in it of a memory I'd forgotten about."

"A happy memory?" asked Luna, watching her, her head cocked to the side, like a psychiatrist watching for outward signs of anything after asking a difficult question.

"Err…yeah. A really happy one, actually."

"Hermione," Luna said softly, leaning forward, her voice dropping so no one else at the table could hear her, "I know you've been quite down, but remember to smile. Everything gets better eventually. You just have to give it time. And don't let the wrackspurts get in your head and make you go all fuzzy." Luna looked at her very seriously before smiling and sitting back up and glancing quickly over at Neville. He turned his head at just the same time and his eyes locked with hers. They both smiled shyly and blushed before turning back to their plates. Hermione watched them, and her mind went quickly on two separate tangents.

'Why does Luna, the girl who brazenly and bluntly tells everything exactly like it is, have trouble even maintaining eye contact with Neville? I suppose she must really fancy him if even she can't talk about that.'

'What Luna said sounded quite like the letters I've been receiving. I wonder…'

"Hey Luna," said Hermione suddenly, breaking off mid-thought and interrupting Luna's furious attempts to stop blushing as she focused all of her energy onto buttering her toast. "Umm, Luna?"

"Huh?" Luna looked up distractedly.

"Luna, you've but on about four tablespoons of butter onto that small triangle of toast. I think that's a bit much."

"Oh!" exclaimed Luna, finally looking clearly at the toast in her hand and noticing that the butter now lay almost an inch thick. "I guess I-, umm, wha-what did you want to ask me, Hermione?"

"I know this is odd, but, could you write something for me?"

"Sure!" It was the mark of what kind of person Luna was. Anyone else would have questioned why, or asked for instructions, but Luna was not that kind of person. She pulled the quill from its perch behind her ear, and turned her napkin into a piece of paper. She began to write furiously, and in a few seconds, gave the paper to Hermione. Hermione looked down at the paper in her hand and saw, in a loopier handwriting than that from the letters, she read,

_Luna Lovegood. Professor of History of Magic at Hogwarts. Umgubular Slashkilters._

Hermione chuckled before looked back up at the expectant blonde. "Thanks very much, Luna. You've been a big help." She went to turn back to her breakfast, but her eyes slid back to the blonde next to her, who was still staring expectantly at her.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

"Open what?"

"The package!"

"Oh!" She had forgotten all about it. She untied the string around it and unfolded the nondescript brown paper. Inside was a small bottle of color-change ink with a small note attached. Hermione unfolded it and read,

_I know you always said this ink was frivolous, but I know you secretly think it's fun. Enjoy the little things, Hermione. Have a good day today._

Hermione smiled at the note, almost hearing the teasing voice in which it was written. The voice was one she almost knew, but like the handwriting, couldn't put her finger on. She picked up the small bottle of ink and turned it in her hand, watching its opalescent features change smoothly from color to color as the light danced off the glass.

"It's lovely."

Hermione started, having completely forgotten that Luna was there next to her, watching her unwrap the package. Luna looked over the note quickly before smiling. "Someone must know you quite well to know about you and that ink."

"Yeah," said Hermione vaguely, desperately trying to remember where she had seen this handwriting before.

 

 

A week later, Hermione heard a knock on her office door.

"It's open," she called. She heard the door open as she finished writing the last few words of her sentence, and looked up to see Neville standing before her desk, a boyish grin set on his decidedly mature face. Neville was no longer the bumbling, chubby boy he had been at school. Resistance, war, and fighting had toughened him, and a strong, handsome man now stood before Hermione, still with his endearing grin and kind heart, a bit of dirt on his nose from his last class.

"Hello, Mione," he said, sitting down in the chair across from her.

"Hello Neville," she said kindly. From the first moment they had met, she had always held a soft spot in her heart for the sweet but clumsy boy, and was thrilled when she found out they would be working together. "What brings you here? Oh, and you've got something right-." She gestured, trying to direct where the smudge was. There was a moment of confusion as he tried to figure out if she was mirroring him or not, but soon was sorted out.

"Bit of potting soil, probably. Anyways, I was told to bring you this." He pulled out of his pocket familiar small, brown package, though this time it was rather thin and long. "Odd how it happened, actually. I was finishing class with my second years when Basil Griffiths, you know, the little one with the curly hair, looks a bit like Dean when we were that age, well, he came up to me and pulled out this package and asked if I could bring it to you. When I asked him why he couldn't, he said he was instructed to bring it to me so I could bring it to you. And before I could ask him who told him to do all that, he said his goodbyes and hurried off! A bit off, but I figured I should do it as I didn't know what else to do with it. I checked to make sure it wasn't cursed or something of the like, so you know." He handed her the package and she examined it.

"I wonder who…" she trailed off as she untied the string and unwrapped the paper.

"Have you gotten one before?"

"Two, actually, and I don't know who is sending them. Here-," she pulled out one of the notes from her pocket, trying not to give any regard to the idea that maybe it was odd she was carrying these notes around with her, and handed it to him. "Do you recognize the handwriting?"

He stared at it for a minute, at one point squinting at it, as if he had almost had the idea, but it had fluttered quickly away, just like the owls that kept bringing the mysterious packages. "Gosh, Hermione. I know I know it, but I can't place it. It looks so familiar, but I can't remember. I'm sorry I can't be more of a help." He stood up and looked about, making sure he wasn't forgetting anything before he left.

"Don't worry about it, Neville. I feel the same way. Where are you off to now?"

He smiled shyly, and the shy boy she had known at school could be seen behind the strong jawline and the hazel eyes. "Umm, I'm off to help Luna grade her papers. You know, because it gets difficult because it's all essays in History of Magic. I mean, I don't know how much help I'll be on the history of house elves and their relation to umgubular slashkilters, but you know, I try to be as helpful as I can, because, you know, Luna…" he trailed off, blushing.

Hermione smiled. As much as it hurt not having someone and being dumped, she could not feel anything scathing towards the pair of them when she saw how besotted they were with each other, clueless to the other's feelings. "I know she really appreciates you helping her and spending time with her, Neville."

"You think?" he said, his voice hopeful.

"Definitely. I'll see you later, Neville. Thanks for bringing this to me." He smiled at her and walked out, closing her office door behind him.

Hermione turned back to the package, which she had unwrapped, but hadn't actually looked at. Again, a small note sat atop a small box, which she set aside, deciding to open the box first. Inside was a beautiful quill, a beautiful chocolate brown that faded to a honey color as it reached the tip. She picked it up and found it fit perfectly between her fingers. She set it down gently and unfolded the note.

_I never understood why you would buy quills for Harry and Ron, but never bought any for yourself. Treat yourself, Hermione. You might not think so, but you deserve it._

She set the note on the desk and twirled the quill in her fingers, staring at the writing. This someone had to have gone to school with them to know this about her. She had always bought the boys quills, since they had a habit of destroying theirs, but only ever bought herself one if she ran out, which rarely ever happened. How could they have known? They would have had to know her really well, or at least her or Harry or Ron very well to know this. She sat there, absorbed in thought, wracking her brains for any hint of who this mysterious gift giver might be.


	7. Chapter 7

It was November, and the crisp, cold winds had picked up, occasionally bringing snow, but usually just a hard frost that clung to every surface. George paced around his sitting room, thinking hard.

He had sent a number of little things and notes to Hermione, and had snuck onto the grounds, making excuses to find out how she was doing and to sneak things into her office by going to visit Neville or Luna, both of whom he had become quite close with after the war. He had heard, mostly from Luna (Neville had a tendency to talk about Luna; George wanted them to just get together already.), that Hermione was doing markedly better. She was smiling more, more animated, and slowly getting back to her usual self.

He had roamed the castle, supposedly making sure all his favorite passageways were still open, but in actuality, sneaking up to her office and quickly going through all her magical guards in order to sneak things into her papers. He had caught glimpses of her and was surprised by how much she had changed in the years since he had seen her last. Her bushy hair had finally settled, and now fell in soft curls down her back. The bookish and constantly exhausted-looking girl he had known at school had grown into a beautiful woman, the lines of her face more defined, as well as the lines of her body, though she still hid it under heavy sweaters and billowing robes. Her brown eyes were bright and shrewd, observing everyone and everything as she walked by, yet somehow always missing him. But that was how it had always been. Those eyes, so quick to catch pranks, wrongdoing and errors in homework, had never noticed that a pair of deep blue eyes, his eyes, was often studying her. Trying to understand why she dealt with his moron brother, why she was oblivious to the other boys stealing glimpses of her, why she pursed her lips every time she watched him and his twin, as if trying to figure out their next move, why the lines in her forehead, so deep when studying a book, softened as she watched Harry nervously, always checking surreptitiously to make sure he was okay.

He remembered the day he really started watching Hermione. Not in a creepy way. No. Definitely not. Rather as a scientist observed a specimen. But that wasn't right. That made it sound as though she's a bug or something. No, more like…like the way you stared at a puzzle. How you hoped that if you stared long enough at the pieces, you would discover a pattern or that you would suddenly have an epiphany and all the pieces would somehow suddenly fit together of their own accord, giving you the answer.

 

 

_He was walking down the hall with Fred, heading towards Charms._

_"Gred, I just don't understand how that-"_

_"See, but, Forge, the thing is that it has to be a separate capsule for-"_

_"But if you've already fainted-"_

_"But if you-"_

_"Oh! That's brill!"_

_"See, I knew I just had to explain it in detail."_

_They grinned at each other, knowing that, to anyone else, that had hardly been a complete conversation, let alone a detailed one, but they knew each other so well, sentences didn't usually have to be completed. Fred was smiling smugly, knowing more than a few of the underclassmen were swooning as he walked by and occasionally winked roguishly at them. George smirked, knowing he shouldn't laugh, as he probably did the same thing from time to time, but his attention was diverted as he heard a CRASH from up ahead. The whole hallway froze, looking for the source of the noise, as books skidded about. Before he and Fred could go more than a few paces closer, a voice suddenly rang out._

_"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!" He knew the top of that bushy head anywhere, and his theory was immediately confirmed as he heard a voice he knew all too well reply scornfully._

_"Watch where you're going, Granger!" He saw Hermione ignore him and duck down to retrieve her books, Harry and Ron blustering about, throwing insults from above her. They were at such an angle that Hermione's face was obscured, but Malfoy's face could be seen clearly. He didn't know why they both looked up at the same time, but he saw the look Malfoy gave her, and his stomach tightened. What was he doing looking at her like that? If he was so high and mighty, why was he staring at her as though she was heaven-sent? It made absolutely no sense._

_"If it's possible, try and keep your nose out of a book long enough to see where you're going, Granger." Malfoy kicked her book down the hallway, and George stuck his foot out just in time to catch it before it went skidding farther down the hall, forever lost in the crowd. Malfoy gave her another look, unnoticed by those moronic apes he called friends and by Harry who was holding back a furious Ron, before pushing past him and Fred to saunter away, like the great prat he was. He had to use every ounce of control to keep his clenched fists at his sides. He didn't know why, but he hated the look Malfoy had given Hermione, not once but twice! Bloody hypocrite, calling her terrible things and going on about her being filthy and then looking at her like some lovesick first year. He was pulled back to the present as he the hall resumed its noise and activity and he heard Ron shouting._

_"C'mon," said Fred, grinning at him. "I never miss a chance to see Ronnikin's head explode."_

_He grinned back at Fred and picked up the book before walking forward. Fred walked over in the direction of Harry and Ron, letting them know about the "emergency" quidditch practice Angelina had scheduled for tonight, but George headed up to Hermione._

_"Don't worry about it, guys," Hermione was saying soothingly. "He's not worth it. Now if I could just find-"_

_She turned before George was expecting and almost crashed into his chest. He smiled down at her, a few pieces of hair falling into his face. He really needed to get it cut._

_"Looking for this, Granger?" He held out the book, but pulled it back at the last second, wanting to tease her a bit. It was a personal challenge of his and Fred's to try and make her laugh, as she was so determined on not finding them funny._

_She arched her eyebrow and looked at him with a smile twisting her lips. "Thank you for retrieving my book. Now may I have it back, George?"_

_As an automatic habit he and Fred had formed of confusing their identities, he replied smoothly, "It's Fred, but you're welcome," and handed the book to her._

_She folded her arms, trying to impress her lack of amusement upon him, and smirked, assuming the know-it-all demeanor with which he was so familiar. "No, it's George, and thank you again. Now if you could kindly stop blocking my way…" She tried to move around him, but he moved as well, blocking her way._

_He was thrown. How did she know which twin he was? Even their own mother had difficulty telling them apart, not that they made it easy for her. Fred, saving him from having to come up with a quick and witty response, jumped in._

_"How do you know I'm not George?"_

_Her eyebrow arched again and she smiled that smile that was almost a smirk that she sent their way so often, and replied, "Because, unlike most people, I can tell the difference."_

_This was a mystery, and one he intended to solve. He knew Fred was occupying the others, so he took his chance before he could have time to regret this decision. He put out his hand, thinking he would probably have to physically turn her around to get her attention, but she halted as soon as he rested his fingers lightly on her shoulder. He bent down a bit, wanting to make sure she saw how serious he was, but was surprised at how close she was when she turned around. He saw the surprise in her eyes, and noticed they weren't simply brown, but the warm, rich color of cinnamon, and surprisingly deep. He realized he had been staring at her and mentally shook himself._

_"I'm going to find out how you do it, Hermione," he whispered, wanting to provoke her into explaining, yet not wanting the others to hear him. He knew this would resonate, as he and Fred rarely referred to her by her first name. He watched the surprise register before making sure he added in the trademark Weasley Twin wink, just for fun. He straightened up and spun around, mentally chastising himself for having stared at her like that. What was he doing, looking that closely at his little brother's friend?_

_"Harry, Ron, if you two don't hurry up we're going to be late." He was intrigued by the slight breathy quality to her voice when she said this, as though she had been holding her breath before. Had that brief encounter done that to her, the little ice princess? The trio made their way down the hall, and he watched them go._

_"We're going to figure out how she does it. Can't have people knowing which one is which, now can we?" Fred said, gesturing to their retreating backs._

_George watched the back of her head, willing it to open and explain how she ticked. He prided himself on understanding how girls worked, but he could never figure Hermione out, and it aggravated him to no end. He saw her look over her shoulder, and their eyes connected. He gave her a searching look, and saw her blush before she turned back around and headed out of eyesight._

_"I'm going to figure her out," he said, almost to himself._

 

 

He had had no problem coming up with clever gifts before, but now, he was debating whether or not to send a certain one. Ginny had given him a scrapbook she had made during her years at Hogwarts, and said he could replicate and send any of the pictures she wanted. He had gone through, laughing at how young and small everyone looked, but one photo at the end had captured his attention. It was a candid photo of Hermione the summer after her seventh year. It had been a summer of mourning, but one day, the tension had somehow broken.

_They were all sitting outside. George was sitting on a stump, staring off into the distance, but not really seeing it. He was trying to cope with the loss of Fred, and it was not proving an easy battle. The family knew how hard this was on him, and they were kind about it. He only half-listened to the voices that floated over on the breeze from the shade of the great oak tree that grew near the Burrow. His attention was grabbed by a noise that was unfamiliar, a sound he hadn't heard in quite a while._

_Someone was laughing._

_He turned his head and saw that Harry had said something, and consequently, Hermione had started cracking up, which in turn made the rest of the group laugh. As Hermione tried to catch her breath in the midst of her laughing, Ginny had quickly taken pictures of her and Ron before turning the camera on her boyfriend._

In the picture, Hermione's face was in close focus, the background behind her a haze of blue sky and green grass meeting at the horizon. Hermione was laughing, her eyes closed and a beaming smile adorning her face, a few freckles dotted across her nose. As she finished laughing, her eyes opened, and looked directly into the camera, directly at George. It was a powerful gaze, but not a harsh one. Her clear brown eyes danced as her smile changed to a little grin, a chuckle escaping her lips. Her sparkling eyes pierced him, but then looked away, and she began laughing again, reminding George that no matter how clear and life-like this picture was, it was just that – a picture.

He didn't know why, but this picture had a hold on him and no matter how many times he had moved to put the picture in the envelope, or to simply copy it and send the copy, he couldn't bring himself to do it, to send away the perfect picture of pure joy.


	8. Chapter 8

December had come and with it came icy winds, cloud-filled skies, and snow that blanketed everything, making Hogwarts look like something out of a fairytale, but making the inside uncomfortably chilly for its inhabitants. Hermione had been ecstatic at the first appearance of snow, but now she was regretting her praying for snow to come, as she currently had to wear three layers if she wanted to stay at a normal, mammalian temperature. She had been desperately trying to find out who was sending her the notes and packages, and had even asked Neville and Luna again if they recognized the handwriting. They both denied recognizing it, but there was something off about the way they said it that made her doubt their sincerity. It was only the third of the month, but students were already losing focus, even though break was still a few weeks away.

"Class! Class!" The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws continued on, chattering at different levels of volume dependant on their excitement. She rolled her eyes before raising her wand and making it emit a loud BANG! that stunned the class into silence. They all turned to her, wide-eyed. 'You would think, by now, the fourth years wouldn't get so jumpy about that, but you could never base maturity on age, could you?' she thought.

Once every eye was trained on her, she smiled and spoke in a carrying voice, making sure no one thought to lose focus.

"I know we have finished early today and everyone is prematurely excited for winter break, but I require your attention for a few more minutes before you are dismissed. Professor Longbottom and Professor Lovegood, your Heads of Houses, have asked me to help in letting everyone know that there will be a Hogsmeade trip this Saturday. Since today is Friday, I ask that anyone who has not yet turned in a signed permission slip allowing them to go to Hogsmeade to turn them into me, and I will make sure they get to your Heads. All the normal rules will be in place for this trip, and I advise that, if you decide on venturing out, you bundle up. Sit down, Mister Cooper. I am not finished. Remember, the essay on switching spells is due on Monday. One full roll of parchment and I will be checking to see if you've tried to cheat by writing really big. If you have any questions on it, you can come see me after class or in my office. That's it, you can go now. Have a good weekend."

The class hurried out of the classroom with the occasional "Bye Professor," but one girl walked up to Hermione's desk. She looked up as she heard the footsteps cease, putting down the papers she had been about to put into her bag. "How can I help you, Miss Richardson?" she asked with a smile. The small Gryffindor looked up at Hermione through her horn-rimmed glasses before looking back down at her book bag.

"Umm…I was told to bring something to you, Professor." The girl pulled an envelope out of her book bag and handed it to Hermione. She recognized it at once.

"Charlotte, who gave this to you?" she asked quickly, trying not to betray her curiosity and sense of urgency.

She tacked off the names on her fingers as she went through the list, trying to remember the names. "Umm, well I got it from Abigail Shaw, and she said she got it from Bramwell Barker, who said he got it from Aiden Butler, who I think got it from Holly Webster, who I heard got it from one of the O'Rieley twins, or maybe one of the McLeod brothers, and I don't know who gave it to them."

Hermione tried to not show her disappointment at not finding out who the mysterious writer was, and smiled at the girl. "Thank you very much, Charlotte. I really appreciate it."

"You have a good weekend, Professor."

"You too, dear."

As soon as she left, Hermione sat on her desk, not worried about being professional as she had just finished her last class of the day, and opened the blank envelope. Inside, a familiar handwriting had written a note on parchment.

_Thought you could find out who I am from the students? Not fair, Hermione. If you're so desperate to know who keeps sending these notes to you, you're going to have to work for it. Let's make a game out of it. Where do you spend too much time, more than any person should? See you there, Hermione._

Hermione reread the note several times, making sure she had read it correctly. They were making a game out of it? What? And how had they known she had asked Charlotte? Or did they know her that well that they knew she was dying to find the answer to the question she was currently unable to solve? Probably the latter, so Hermione focused on the second part of the note. Where did she spend too much time? Well, her office, but she knew other professors that were often burning the midnight oil, same as her. She read the question again. If this person had known her at Hogwarts, maybe it was referring to her as a student. Then it hit her, the one place everyone made fun of her about, where she practically lived during her fourth, fifth, and sixth years.

"THE LIBRARY!"

She started, realizing she had shouted, and the echo was resonating in her ears. She hurriedly shoved her papers into her bag, threw her cloak over her arm, grabbed her bag, and ran from the room. She had run a few paces before realizing she was attracting quite a few odd looks. She stopped, turned, and walked composedly towards her office. As soon as she was in it, she dropped her belongings on her desk chair and hurried back to the door. She hurried out, though forced herself not to run, and made her way down to the library, walking so quickly her robes whipped around corners before people had even registered her presence. Once a few paces from the library, she slowed to a walk, knowing Madame Pince was a stickler on silence, no matter who it was. She walked in and scanned the room and the desk at which Madame Pince sat, but saw no letter. Dare she approach her?

"Madame Pince?" she asked quietly, hitching a smile onto her face, despite the fact that she still felt somewhat scared of the old woman, like a mouse under the sharp and unwavering gaze of a hawk. She looked up, her eyebrow raised, ready to shoo away the student that dare disturb the silence with their voice. When she saw Hermione, the eyebrow lowered and she looked at Hermione politely.

"How can I help you, Miss Granger?" Hermione was a little thrown off by being called Miss, but considering how old the librarian was, Hermione made no comment on the subject.

"I was wondering if, by any chance, anyone had dropped off or left a blank, sealed envelope. I know it's an odd question, but-"

"No envelope has been left here," cut in the librarian, as though she was wasting precious time by holding this conversation, even though the only thing she seemed to be doing was reading a dusty old tome.

"Umm," replied Hermione, trying to regain her composure and not act like the scared first year this woman always brought out in her, "Well, thank you very much. Please excuse me for intruding." Madame Pince sniffed, as though derisively commenting on her time being wasted and other such notions.

Hermione walked away, thinking that maybe it was as she hoped, and the mysterious letter writer was actually here somewhere. The letter had said "see you there," after all. She decided to walk through all the aisles, not knowing where the person could be hiding. She was almost through the entire library, when she realized the only place she hadn't looked was the restricted section, all the way at the back of the library. She rushed over, probably drawing a few curious glances from the students she passed, but she was too excited to notice. She got over and opened the gate that encased the restricted books, quietly thanking the gate for not creaking. She really didn't need more attention drawn to her right now. She walked through and got to the last section, the potions section. There, on the desk, was a familiar book. She walked up and saw the corner of an envelope peeking out from the pages of Moste Potente Potions. She was a bit disappointed she hadn't found the actual person, but she opened the book to the page that was marked by the envelope. Polyjuice Potion. She chuckled at the cleverness of this placement, since this had been the book she had used in her second year. She slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and pulled out the letter from inside.

_You honestly thought it would be that easy? That would be a terrible game! No no, Miss Granger, you are going to have to work for it. If you think it's worth another search, here's something to help you. You always spent a considerable amount of time here, but rarely bought anything for yourself._

"Seriously?" she said loudly, incredulous. Heads swiveled around, and many wide eyes stared at her. She was mortified. "Sorry!" she whispered. A couple people chuckled and everyone turned back around, finding amusement in their teacher breaking rules. Hermione hurried out of the library, not wanting to make any more disturbances in there, and rushed back to her office. Once she was in and the door was shut, she yelled in frustration.

"Seriously? I'm on a scavenger hunt?" She began to pace, thinking. "Okay, okay, somewhere I spent a considerable amount of time, but rarely bought anything. Umm…well, it's obviously a shop, so that means Hogsmeade. Somewhere I spent a lot of time. Err…well, there's Honeyduke's, but I've bought tons of things from there, like the Sugar Quills. The Sugar Quills! Maybe there's a hint in an old note!"

She rushed over to her desk and rifled through the notes the letter writer had sent before. Finally, she came across one and knew she had her answer.

"The quill! That means Scrivenshaft's!" She spun around, delighted that she had solved it, but stopped facing the window, through which a blood red sunset could be seen.

"NO! No no no no no no! C'mon! I've figured it out and there's no time to go get it? NO!" She slumped into a nearby armchair. "This is ridiculous! I have to wait 'til tomorrow?"

She watched as the sky turned to a dusty pink that slowly faded into purple, as if the sunset was hurrying on purpose to mock her.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, Hermione was itching to leave to Hogsmeade, but she was in charge of checking everyone before they left. As soon as the last student was through, she hurried off down the snow-covered path towards Scrivenshaft's. She hurried down the High Street and finally saw her destination. She walked in, trying to look as calm as possible while trying to loosen her scarf, having heated up from practically running from the castle. She smiled at the store clerk and started walking about the store, her eyes scanning for an envelope. She searched through the store, positive it would be with the quill she had received, but it was not there.

Just as she looked about, feeling as though she had misunderstood the hint, she spotted it. There it was on the top shelf, nestled between two boxes of the acid green Quick Quotes Quills, just like the one that awful Rita Skeeter had always used. So the writer knew about that too. She wasn't too surprised, practically everyone knew she hated Skeeter after the horrid articles she wrote, and was shocked she hadn't thought of looking at the Quick Quotes Quills earlier. She opened it too quickly and gave herself a paper cut. She hissed with pain before pulling out her wand and healing the cut. She went back to the letter and pulled out the note.

_That probably took you a while. You probably hate those green quills now, eh? Well done for figuring this all out, but don't celebrate yet. I've got a question first: Are you afraid of the big bad wolf?_

She giggled at the muggle fairytale story reference, but then it hit her, as if a light had just turned on in her head. She started cracking up. "Oh, you're a clever one!" she said, wiping her streaming eyes from how hard she had been laughing. The shopkeeper probably thought she was mad. At this point, some of her students probably did too, but that didn't matter. She was off to the next destination.

She ran all the way there, filled with the kind of immense excitement you only had as a child. She arrived, but doubled over, panting, burning up in all of her winter layers. She sat down on a nearby rock and closed her eyes, catching her breath. When she opened her eyes, she gazed upon the Shrieking Shack, into which she had traversed more times than she would have liked. And there, stuck in the gate that surrounded the area, was another envelope. She beamed and rushed over, leaning against the fence as she read.

_I'm clever, aren't I? I bet you got that one right away. I guess I should make this a tad more difficult. Here's a riddle: where do you want to go if you've never been, but never return once you have?_

The mystery writer was right; this one was harder to guess. She knew the last one so easily because of Lupin. Plus, it was the only place in Hogsmeade connected with a wolf. She began to walk back towards the High Street, trying to figure out this next clue.

"Okay, so you want to go, but you never return. Like you never come out? No, that can't be it. Err…so you want to go if you've never been, but never return once you have. So you don't like the place. So it has a good reputation but isn't actually good? You never return…"

She stopped and looked about. She heard a tinkling of a door being opened, and turned around. She was in front of Madam Puddifoot's. Hermione gasped.

"That's it!" she whispered excitedly to herself. She walked in and immediately felt woozy as a puff of extremely perfumed air hit her. She started walking around as surreptitiously, but saw the letter nowhere in the store. She turned and saw someone bringing out a cup of tea. On the saucer was an envelope. Her eyes widened as she saw the server walk away and hand the cup off to a girl. It took her a minute to realize it was one of her students. Oh, this was going to be awkward. She hadn't even taken one step forward when she heard the girl say, "What? Why is there a letter to Professor Granger under my cup?"

Hermione walked up, an apologetic look on her face. "Hello, Rae, I'm so sorry, but I've been looking for that envelope."

The girl looked at her with wide eyes, half shocked to see her teacher in normal clothes and half terrified that her teacher was here while she was on a date. "I-, uh, here you go," she said, holding it out.

"Thank you so much, and I'm terribly sorry to intrude. And don't worry, I won't mention this to anyone." She smiled at the girl who looked thoroughly relieved before hurrying out of that pink and perfumed hell. As the cold air hit her she took a big breath, as though it was her first breath after being underwater for a long time. She moved a little ways away from the tea shop and saw a bench.

"Perfect," she said, sitting down. The wiped the tea stains of the envelope and read.

_I know that was probably terribly mean of me, but I couldn't resist. The boy was probably hoping you would save him and get him out of that godforsaken place, but alas. This next place adds some much needed excitement to this quaint little town, don't you think?_

Hermione looked around, and smirked. Well, that was too easy. It was obvious which shop was the most colorful. She got up and walked into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, confident in how easy that had been. Walking in was an explosion of sound and color. She grimaced. No wonder the clue had been so easy. The trick wasn't finding the store; it was finding a small envelope in a huge, crammed, and busy shop. This was going to be difficult.

'Think, Hermione,' she thought to herself. 'Everything so far has been connected to you. What products are connected to you?'

She looked around and saw the garishly pink Wonder Witch products and groaned. Please, please let it not be there. She walked over and scanned, making sure not to get too close to the display and the giggling girls that surrounded it. No envelope. 'Thank Merlin,' she thought to herself. She walked around the store for almost ten minutes, and then it hit her. She rushed over to the other side of the store, where most of the boys were congregated, and saw the Skiving Snackboxes she had yelled at the twins for on countless occasions. There, attached to a Fainting Fancies box, was the envelope. One of the boys turned around and almost bumped into her.

"Professor Granger!" All the other boys turned around, guilty looks on their faces.

"Hello, Mister Burns," she said with a small smile, trying not to laugh at the matching looks of mingling guilt and fear the boys had on their faces.

"You shop here?" another asked.

"Yes, Mister Burton. I went to school with the creators of those packages you're holding in your hand. So if you do decide to use them, don't use them in my class. I know ALL the tricks."

The boys all gave her awestruck looks before hurriedly saying, "No, Professor, not in your class," and scampering away.

She reached up and untied the envelope from the package, then headed outside, where it was much less noisy and cramped, to read it.

_I highly doubt Marietta Edgecombe is very fond of this place._

"What?" She turned the note over, looking for more. Marietta Edgecombe? She was the one who told on the D.A. to Umbridge. Hermione thought, her forehead crinkled with frustration.

"The Room of Requirement?" Hermione thought for a minute. "No, that can't be it. Why would I have to go all the way back to the castle?" She looked around Hogsmeade, looking for inspiration, and she got it. She crinkled her nose and smiled in spite of herself. "Now I would not have normally made that connection," she muttered to herself. She walked back down the High Street and opened the door to into the Hog's Head. Dust stirred around her feet as she let in the chill air.

"Close the damn door!" she heard a gruff voice shout. She shut the door quickly, and blinked, trying to adjust to the relative darkness. She walked up to the bar and sat down a few seats away from a sinister looking goblin. She was not too fond of them after their break in and subsequent escape from Gringotts. The bartender finally turned around, and his bright blue eyes connected with her brown ones.

"Granger," he said simply. He did not smile, but his eyes betrayed a hint of warmth.

"Hello Aberforth. How are you?" He grunted as if to say "same 'ol, same 'ol."

"Oh yeah. Got something for you here," he said gruffly. He turned around and picked up a letter, the envelope stained with a ring from the bottom of an ale bottle.

"Thanks so much, Aberforth," she said, smiling warmly at the man that, despite his brusque demeanor, was a good man at the core. She hopped off the stool and waved before quickly heading out the door. She blinked, suddenly adjusting to the bright white of the snow-blanketed street. She quickly opened the letter.

_No offence to Ab, but that's not a proper place for a pint. Head to where the atmosphere is as bright as the snow. Look for your favorite flower._

'My favorite flower? That's a laugh. It's difficult to find it in season, let alone in the dead of winter. No way would there be any lilacs in this weather. The other part. Right. The atmosphere as bright as the snow? Wouldn't that be Weasley's Wizard Wheezes? It can't be, because I've already been there. Maybe it means comparative to the Hog's Head. Well, that would be the Three Broomsticks.'

She froze in the middle of her walking as her suspicions sunk in.

"No," she said, smiling incredulously. "No way. It can't be that easy. It just can't!" She headed off to the Three Broomsticks, hardly daring to hope that it could be that easy. She opened the door and the warm, buttery smell that always lingered in the air washed over her. She walked in and began to look around, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible while searching every table for a sign of an envelope or, dare she think it, a familiar face. She walked around and saw no sign of an envelope and no familiar face besides that of her students. She started heading to the back rooms, where it was quieter, and walked slowly, searching every surface.

Suddenly, a flash of purple caught her eye. She turned her head and saw, in the torch bracket where a torch should be, about ten branches of beautiful purple and white lilacs, looking as fresh as if they were still on the tree. She looked down at the seats below it, but the paneling of the booth went around in such a way that it blocked the patrons from sight. She walked over hesitantly, constantly reminding herself to breathe normally, and turned to see who was sitting beneath the lilacs.

A deep voice, rich and full of mirth, spoke up. "Why, hello there, Hermione."

"GEORGE?"


	10. Chapter 10

George woke up at his usual time and got ready, making sure to put on some extra layers because of the frigid temperature outside. He made sure everything was in order in the shop before opening, knowing today would be a ridiculously busy day, as it was both a Hogsmeade trip, and only a few weeks before Christmas. As he sat on the desk that held the register, he looked outside and saw a dense line of black dots moving towards Hogsmeade on the path that led from the castle.

The door, which did not have a bell like every other store in Hogsmeade, mostly because his door was being opened and shut so often that it would have gotten ridiculously aggravating, announced its first opening of the day with a gust of cold wind that stirred the objects and displays that hung from the ceiling. He looked over and saw his best friend, Lee Jordan, pulling his hat and gloves off.

"Shut the damn door, Jordan!" he said, grinning. The tall boy grinned back, his bright white smile standing out against his dark skin and his all-black winter attire.

"Naff off, you pansy," he called over, forcing the door shut as a powerful blast of freezing air tried to make its way in, as though it was just as excited to come into the store as the students.

"Mate, why are you wearing all black? You look like a walking shadow."

"People with carrot colored hair shouldn't throw stones," Lee replied in a mocking sing-song voice. They both chuckled. "So, why the emergency? Why do you need help holding down the fort today? I thought this was my day off."

George hopped down from the counter and walked over to Lee, who was still trying to untangle himself from all his winter attire. "You can have three days off for working today."

"It's that important? What, got a hot date?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Err…well, kinda? Not really a date…" George said, blushing slightly and rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand, feeling kind of embarrassed.

"Seriously? Who is she?" Lee started, but seeing George's reaction, he halted, a sneaky grin making its way onto his face.

"George…," he said, teasing.

"What? It's nothing. It's-, c'mon, you know Ginny asked me to do this. It not for any other reason, it's just Gin-"

"You liar!" Lee exclaimed happily. "She asked you in mid-September. It's December now. There was no need to carry it on this long."

"Yes there is!" cried George, trying to maintain his composure all the while asserting his innocence. "It's Christmas! I have to do this because if I stop now and she goes crying to Ginny on Christmas Day because she's alone, Gin will have my head!"

Lee stopped and surveyed him, his eyes squinted as if trying to read his thoughts through his skull. "Hmm…well, if that's the only reason…"

"Lee," George said, warningly. "C'mon, stop."

"Because last time…," said Lee, the implications of that year filling his unsaid words.

"That was nothing! I told you and Fred. That was not anything more than trying to figure something out. And I was right, wasn't I? I was completely right. And that's why I'm in this position now."

"You were awfully observant that year. Some may say-," he paused for dramatic effect, "too observant."

"Piss off! I was not! And I was right, wasn't I?" said George, his face red from embarrassment and anger.

Lee chuckled and watched George, his eyebrow raised in amusement. "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Loverboy."

 

 

_Ever since that day that George had seen that odd look on Malfoy's face, he had become suspicious. It was true that he wanted to know why Hermione was such an enigma compared to other girls, but he was more curious about Malfoy's strange change in behavior. As he stared into the fire in the Gryffindor common room, he wondered why this would be. It couldn't be because of Umbridge's presence. If anything, that should make him ruder to her because he feels entitled and protected around the old toad._

_"Georgie, would you like to come back to the present?" he heard Fred say next to him. He blinked a couple times and looked around to see Fred and Lee staring at him._

_"Sorry, what did I miss?"_

_Lee spoke up while Fred watched his twin for reactions. "Well, we were just discussing your weird fascination with a certain overbearing Gryffindor prefect. Care to comment?"_

_"What?" George asked, confused._

_"Hermione, you dolt."_

_"What about her?"_

_"You've been practically stalking her, George," said Fred._

_"I HAVE NOT!" cried George, incensed._

_"Anytime she's around, your eyes go all squinty, like they do when you're trying to study Arithmancy. Care to explain that?"_

_"Have you two not seen how Malfoy looks at her all the time? It's like he's just found a precious gem or something and he doesn't want anyone to know. It's creepy!"_

_"Oh, and you're not," muttered Lee. George glared at him._

_"AND he's stopped calling her 'mudblood'. Now why would he stop that all of a sudden?" George looked about expectantly._

_"I don't know, maybe he's finally gained a conscience. Honestly, I could give a rat's ass about Malfoy. You're the one that's off, George."_

_"I am not-"_

_"Shuttup," said Fred. "Yes you are. And you need to stop. I know it bothers you that you can't figure out why Hermione does her Hermione-ish things, and why Malfoy is staring at people-"_

_"Not people! Just-" interjected George, who was cut off by Lee._

_"Yeah, yeah, we know, just Hermione. But here's the problem: why have you noticed?"_

_"Because there is something weird about that, you have to admit!" he argued._

_Lee rolled his eyes as Fred spoke up. "George, give it up. Maybe one day, in a twisted parallel universe, they'll date or something, and then you'll have your reason, but in the meantime, stop stalking her."_

_"I AM NOT-"_

_"WELL," said Fred, talking over his twin, "Whatever you call this, stop. Seriously. This is not healthy."_

 

 

George was prevented from replying to Lee by the door opening and a slew of Hogwarts students rushing in. As he said hello to some of his usual customers and answered some questions, Lee sauntered up behind him.

"So, Loverboy, when are you leaving to stalk?"

George turned around, furious. He held up two fingers in front of Lee's face. "Two things. First," he said, raising his pointer finger, "you call me that again and I will hurt you. Second," he raised his middle finger and turned his hand around, flipping Lee off, "I have never stalked anyone, especially Hermione, nor do I currently."

Lee laughed, pushing George's hand gesture away. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

George knew some of the shopkeepers thought his requests had been a bit odd, but they had all agreed to let him hide the letters, and in some cases, give her the letters. He knew they appreciated the extra business the shop brought to the street and consequentially their shops as well, so they didn't mind the silly favor. George was looking out the window about ten minutes later when he saw familiar curly brown hair poking out from beneath a knitted hat. He chuckled, seeing her determined expression and her quick gait. He knew she was headed right for Scrivenshaft's. He had made that clue purposely easy, but had timed it so that when she did get it and figured it out, it would be too late to go in the evening. So here she was, rushing off to the quill shop as if there were dogs snapping at her heels. He knew she would get to the Shrieking Shack quickly, but the next clue would be the one to trip her up. Less than ten minutes later, he looked over at Lee.

"Hey Lee, I'm gonna step outside for just a second. Be right back." He hurried outside, wrapping a scarf around his neck, missing Lee's knowing smile.

Perfect timing. There she was, walking aimlessly down at the other end of the High Street, her eyes fixed on the letter. She suddenly turned around and a huge smile suddenly lit up her face. She was right in front of Puddifoot's. "Oh come on!" he said quietly. "That was too easy!" He rushed back inside, knowing where the next clue led her, and hurried over to Lee.

"She's coming in here next. You say a thing about this or about me and I will kill you," he hissed as he hurriedly took off his scarf and jacket.

Lee looked over George's shoulder before saying, "Roger that, Loverboy." Before George could make any retort or move to strangle him, the door opened, and in walked Hermione. He turned around and helped a young girl who was at the register, ignoring Lee's laughter from behind him. She walked around for ten minutes, a grueling ten minutes in which George did everything he could to not look at her and ignore Lee's whispered taunts. A few minutes later, he heard a little ways to his left the voices of a handful of petrified fifth years.

"Professor Granger!"

He had to use all of his willpower to not laugh at the looks on the boys' faces when she said she had gone to school with the creators. "She forgot to mention she was the one who tried to confiscate everything," muttered Lee.

"Right?" George muttered back, amused.

"Aaaaand she's off again. I figure if you are just doing this to make her happy, I should help in any way I can," said Lee, adding in a mutter, "Though I doubt that's the reason."

George shook his head, ignoring Lee's jabs. He grabbed his jacket and scarf and pulled them on. "Lee, I need you to take over now. I've gotta run."

"Bye! Have fun! I'll miss you, baby!" Lee called after George as he headed to the door. George turned around and made a rude hand gesture before grinning and heading out the door.

"They grow up so fast," said Lee, clutching his heart in a good imitation of Mrs. Weasley.

George hurried over to the Three Broomsticks and headed to the back, where it was quieter, and picked a booth that would hide him from sight. After taking off his jacket and scarf so as to be more comfortable, he removed the unlit and scarcely used torch that was sitting uselessly in its bracket and transfigured it into lilac branches, putting a charm on it to make them stay perfectly fresh, since lilacs had a tendency to die the same day after being removed from their tree. He then sat down, thanking Madame Rosmerta when she came over with two butterbeers, and waited.


	11. Chapter 11

She walked over hesitantly, constantly reminding herself to breathe normally, and turned to see who was sitting beneath the lilacs.

A deep voice, rich and full of mirth, spoke up. "Why, hello there, Hermione."

"GEORGE?" She was floored. The letter writer was George Weasley?

He chuckled. "You remember my name after five years of not seeing each other. We're off to a good start." He winked at her before gesturing to the seat across from him. "Would you like to sit down, Hermione? I got Butterbeers for us."

She realized she had been standing, frozen in shock. "I-, uh, y-yeah." She sat, still staring at him. His eyebrows contracted in confusion, but the smile still remained on his lips.

"Why are you staring at me like I've grown an extra head? I haven't, have I?" His hands moved quickly to his neck, running them along the length of his shoulders, checking.

A laugh bubbled up and escaped her lips before she realized what she had done. "No," she said, a confused smile now replacing the look of shock on her face, "But I did not expect you to be the mystery writer."

"The mystery writer? That sounds so daring and…well…mysterious." He frowned a little at his inability to choose a better word. "Who did you expect to be the writer?"

She frowned for a moment before replying. "You know, I have absolutely no idea. But I just never expected this of you, George. I mean, not only because we haven't see each other in years, but none of the presents exploded, melted, or made me turn a different color." She moved to take a sip of her Butterbeer.

"Is that what you expect from me? Tawdry exploding products?"

She choked on her drink and looked up, her eyes wide; ready to apologize, when she realized he was grinning at her. "George! You made me feel terrible!" she cried, blushing from embarrassment.

"I was only teasing you. I understand. That's what most people expected from me until they saw me get more serious."

"George Weasley, serious? Never!" She grinned at his falsely reproachful look.

There was a pause as both sipped their Butterbeers and watched each other.

 

George had been taken aback when Hermione had come up to the table. He had seen her on his trips up to the castle, but she had always had that harried look that was ever-present during their school years, her hair falling out from its professor-ish bun or braid. Now, her eyes bright and her cheeks pink from the cold, her curly hair falling around her shoulders, she didn't look like the tired schoolteacher anymore, but more like the laughing girl from the picture.

He had never thought it during school, probably partly due to the fact that he was busy flirting with every girl that passed him, partly because she was only around to yell at them for testing their products, but she was pretty. No, that wasn't right. She wasn't just pretty. The blonde girl that worked at Honeyduke's was pretty, but Hermione? Hermione was beautiful.

 

'So it's George,' she thought to herself as she looked over the rim of her cup at him. He had changed since she had seen him last. 'Of course he has; it's been five years, he was bound to change.' But it was not only looks, it was something about him. He still had those sparkling blue eyes, that cocky grin, the flaming red hair, the one ear. His hair was shorter than he had kept it at school, and you could see the hole where his left ear should have been. But it wasn't that.

He had a much different air about him. It was hard to explain. At Hogwarts, he and Fred had had this constant air of mischief about them, which kept Hermione constantly on edge, wondering what they were going to do next. He still had that sense of fun and mischief about him, but there was something more. She could see it in the lines of his face and in his eyes, those dark blue eyes that seemed as bottomless and mysterious as the sea. Their characteristic sparkle was now accompanied by a depth and sadness that would never leave. They were the eyes of someone who had seen death, felt unendurable pain; someone who had stood at the precipice of the cliff, rocked his feet, preparing to jump, but had had the strength to walk away. Those were the eyes of a fighter.

 

"Stale library air and staying up all night grading essays has done a lot for you, Hermione," he smiled, his eyes scanning her face.

She chuckled. "Exploding potions and juggling businesses has seems to have suited you quite well." He smiled at her before taking another sip of his drink. She watched him for another moment or so, before speaking up, breaking the comfortable silence they had been sharing. "I was wrong."

"Excuse me?"

"I was wrong. It makes perfect sense that you're the one who's been sending me all the letters and little gifts."

He smiled his crooked smile, and raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "How do you figure?"

"Well," she said, looking him in the eyes, "I was in a really bad place, you know, after my," she paused, as if collecting herself. "My breakup. And you helped me get back to my normal self and smile more. And it makes sense because that's what you do; that what you and Fred did for as long as I have known you – you make people smile."

His smile softened, and she looked down, blushing slightly from getting a bit choked up. "I-, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I mentioned…," she trailed off, not knowing whether or not Fred was a safe topic to broach.

 

He knew most people were nervous about raising the topic of Fred, and got nervous anytime they accidentally mentioned him. It used to hurt a bit, as it was a constant reminder of his death, but now he knew that Fred would have wanted people to remember him, talk about him. 'He always had been the more narcissistic one, after all,' George joked to himself.

He reached his hand across the table and rested it on hers, which was sitting, relaxed, next to her bottle. She looked up, surprised, and he squeezed it, smiling warmly at her. "It's fine, Hermione. And thank you for saying that. It's quite flattering knowing you no longer think my goal in life is to blow up the castle." She giggled slightly at his comment. "And I'm glad I could help. I know it's been rough."

He saw her smile waver and begin to blink more, obviously trying to hold back tears. She grasped his hand and squeezed it lightly in silent thanks. He gave her a minute to collect herself, pretending to be distracted scratching his nose, politely ignoring her trying to surreptitiously wipe her eyes.

"I know we haven't really seen each other in years, and we were never terribly close before," he started and was interrupted by a watery chuckle from across the table. He looked up from the knot in the wood table he had been staring down as he had spoken and saw her smiling at him softly from across the table. He figured he should probably continue his sentence. "But I figured we're both kind of isolated out here, and I figure we could both use a friend." He looked up again, worried he had overstepped his boundaries, but was met with a radiant smile.

"George, I would love a friend." He beamed back, then noticed they were still holding hands. She looked down at the same time and both smiled a little before releasing their hands. As she went to take another sip of her Butterbeer, he ran his thumb along the palm of his hand. He didn't understand why, but his hand felt strangely empty.

"Oh good, 'cause I was worried I was going to come off sounding kind of 'scared-first-year-trying-to-make-friends'." She laughed.

"I understand. I adore Luna and Neville, but it's gotten much more difficult being around them when all they do is talk about the other and blush."

"I know, right?" he replied, enthusiastically jumping onto the topic. "It's exhausting! I just want to shout 'Get on with it!'" She laughed and began talking about how the tension between the two had mounted the other day when it was only them three in the staff room and they had both moved to sit in the same chair.

 

They talked for hours, and before they realized it, it had gotten dark.

"Hey," George said carefully, "Do you want to grab a bite to eat?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," she replied. "By the way, I love the lilacs. I don't know how you got them to look that perfect; they usually fade-"

"-The same day," they finished together. They laughed, and he stood up, gently removing them from the torch bracket.

"They're for you. They shouldn't fade for quite a while." He smiled as her eyes lit up as she took them from him, smiling to herself as she breathed in their delicate perfume. "I'm glad you like them."

She set them lightly on the table, moving to pull on her jacket. They pulled on their winter wear and headed outside, chatting happily.

 

As the golden glow from the lamps bounced off the dazzling snow, spreading their light and illuminating the way through the little town, the raven sky sparkling with stars bright and luminescent as diamonds, a young man looked out his window at the couple slowly walking past. The tall young man was talking animatedly, his arms gesticulating the point of his story, while the young woman laughed, her cheeks red and her eyes closed, thoroughly enjoying herself, a bouquet of flowers held loosely in her right hand. In the midst of her laughing, she leaned into the man's right side, seeking support. He smiled down at her, a caring look on his face, and wrapped his right arm around her shoulders. She wiped her eyes, her chest heaving as she fought to regain her breath, and smiled up at the man. She leaned her head on his chest as they walked, and he tucked a stray curl behind her ear with his left hand, his right arm never moving from her shoulders.

"Just doing this for Ginny, my arse," said Lee Jordan, chuckling and moving away from the window.


	12. Chapter 12

George was bored.

He had closed the store early, as there was no one doing their shopping in Diagon Alley this afternoon except for a few brave souls, fighting through the huge storm that was raging outside. He peered out the window, trying to get an idea of the time by the sky, but it was pointless. Everything was shades of white and grey outside as the storm raged on the other side of his frosted windows. He looked about the store, his roving eyes aimless, before an idea struck him. He smiled to himself before running to the back room, grabbing his coat, pulling it on, and, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, disapperating.

He landed in the middle of Hogsmeade and was almost knocked over by a strong gust of wind that blew snow down the back of his neck, making him shiver. He looked over at his closed store, a beacon of color in the swirling white storm, which only ever needed to be opened when the students had a Hogsmeade weekend, before rushing over to his destination. As he walked in and quickly shut the door, his eyes adjusting to the gloom, he smiled over at the bar, where a man was watching him as he rubbed a glass with a somewhat grimy towel.

"Hey Ab, I've got a favor to ask," he said, walking forward with a smile on his face.

 

 

Hermione was exhausted.

She had stayed up late last night grading her N.E.W.T. level students' essays and writing copious notes to help them with refining their work, and had only gotten around three hours of sleep. She rubbed the heels of her hands into her blurry eyes, trying to make them focus. It was hard enough with her sleep deprivation, but it was also a tad dark, as most of the light had been sapped from the room with the arrival of the blizzard. She yawned hugely before trying to refocus her eyes on the paper. She bit the tip of the pen, thinking. She always had preferred pens to quills, not enjoying working with the messy ink, and had about four currently sticking out of her bun. She had a tendency to forget they were there and grab new ones. Her eyes went in and out of focus as she fought to keep grading.

"Come on, Hermione. You can do this," she said to herself.

 

 

George walked through the silent halls of the castle, enjoying the way the light played off the stone walls as the storm raged outside the windows. He saw a few kids up ahead heading this way and that, probably off to their common rooms. The passageway had let him off somewhere in the dungeons, near the Slytherin common room, and he was trying to find his way. Although he and Fred had practically memorized the castle, they had always preferred the upper floors to the dungeons, unless it included pranking Snape or one of the many Slytherin gits. He walked and ended up at a dead end that only had a broom closet.

"Where the bloody hell am I?" he said aloud to himself. He sighed exasperatedly and turned back around, trying to get to find the correct way out.

 

 

Hermione forced herself to get up and light some more candles. She could have easily done it from her seat, but she thought forcing herself to move around a bit would help her wake up. More light spread around her office as she stretched her arms, then her neck, trying anything to keep going.

"This is worse than studying for the O.W.L.s," she said to herself before sitting back down to grade another paper.

 

 

"Bloody hell. Finally!" he said quietly to himself, as he saw her office door ahead of him. "Sugar Quills," he whispered to the portrait of a stern-looking young witch with pin straight, jet black hair who quite resembled a young McGonagall despite the period clothing, all the while smiling to himself at Hermione's password. She raised her eyebrow, surveying him, and smiled ever so slightly before silently swinging forward, allowing him to enter. He winked at her before slipping inside as quietly as possible. He stayed in the shadows, which was easy as the only light was across the room, where Hermione sat, surrounded by candles. She looked utterly exhausted, and seeing a frown tugging at her lips and the frustrated way she kept pushing away stray curls that fell into her face tugged at his heart a little, though he did not know why.

"May I intrude, Madame?" he asked in an overly pompous voice, stepping out from the shadows. She jumped and made a small noise of fright, looking up with wide eyes. As he stepped closer, he saw the bags under her eyes that could have challenged the ones she had had in her third year.

"Oh, George, it's just you," she said with a weary smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I figured it was time to see you again, since you've been avoiding me this past week."

"I haven't been avoiding you. It's the last week before break and I had a ton of grading to do. I had to get it back before they went off to break. I just wish I could have finished these N.E.W.T. papers in time," she said, gesturing at the essays before her.

"Hermione, I'm sure those N.E.W.T. students could use a break as much as you could. Come on, get up." He moved to her side of the desk, trying to pull her up from her chair.

"No, but I-, there's just-, I have to-," she argued feebly before yawning. George heard her jaw crack.

"Okay! When you yawn so much that your jaw's about to unhinge is when you know it's time to stop. Come on, Hermione." He pulled her up from the chair, noting how light she was, and placed her wand in her pocket. "Come on. Time to give in for the night."

"But I need to finish-"

"Hermione, it's the start of the Christmas holidays tomorrow. You need the sleep. These essays will still be here tomorrow and the whole of vacation. Plus, I need to talk to you." He directed her towards the door, her soft hand resting on his forearm, steadying herself. "There's a girl, come on." He got her out of her office, the portrait watching them curiously, her dark eyes fixed on his hand, which rested lightly but securely on the small of Hermione's back, and to her quarters, which were thankfully right next door.

"You know there's a door connecting the two rooms," she mumbled, smirking slightly at him. He froze. Then it hit him.

"Oh bugger. Well, whatever, we're here. What's the password?"

"Crookshanks," she said quietly, smiling to herself. He shook his head, remembering the cat that had been ugly as sin and just about as nice as a basilisk. He guided her in and sat her down on the couch. He turned away, taking off his coat, and moved to sit down, when he saw she was already falling to sleep.

"No no no no no! Hermione, Hermione, no no, Hermione wake up. I have to talk to you." He moved closer to her on the couch and placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to get her to sit up, but instead she turned and rested her head on his chest, the palm of her right hand pressed right against where his heart was.

"Keep talking," she mumbled. "I'm listening."

"You liar. Come on, Hermione, wake up. I have to talk to you." She sat up.

"What?" she asked grumpily, sounding like an over-tired toddler.

"Do you want to come to the Burrow for Christmas?" That woke her up.

"What?" she asked quickly, rubbing her eyes, and staring at him, the lines she got between her eyebrows when she was confused or frustrated forming.

"Do you want to come to the Burrow for Christmas?" He searched her face, knowing what her reaction would be before it even happened.

Her eyes welled up with tears and she looked down, the corners of her mouth turning down despite her best efforts to keep a straight face. "I don't think-"

"They all really miss you." She looked up, her bottom lip quivering.

"But, but they, I mean, I haven't been in almost five years. Ever since Ron-" Her voice faltered and she looked at him pleadingly.

"I know," he said, pulling her to his chest and wrapping his arms around her. "I know he was a git, but you know how he was about Malfoy. He just couldn't accept it. The rest of the family really missed you those years. He really misses you."

"How do you know?" she asked, her voice torn between hurt and anger. "He hasn't written or visited or-"

"I know because he told me," he said matter-of-factly. She sat up and looked at him, a few tears still running down her face.

"Yeah?" she asked, trying not to betray too much hope in her voice.

"We all have missed you, Hermione. Please come for Christmas." She faltered, so he said quickly, "And I'll be there with you the whole time, and if something goes wrong or you can't handle it, I'll take you right back here and everything will be okay."

"Okay," she said quietly. She leaned forward and hugged him tightly around the waist.

"Oww! Oww!" he said as the multiple pens in her hair poked him in the face and neck. "Okay Professor, let's get to bed. Merlin knows you need it."

She giggled, her tiredness coming back full force. "That sounded naughty." She giggled again before yawning hugely. Suddenly, unbidden images of him and Hermione flooded his brain and he started feeling all the wrong things for the situation he was in currently. He could feel the heat rising up his neck as he tried and failed to banish the images from his mind. The images that he wished made him feel thoroughly uncomfortable, but rather made him feel intrigued. She got up unsteadily and pulled off her heavy sweater, revealing a bit of skin as the white blouse underneath rode up. He tore his eyes away as she set the sweater over the back of the chair next to them. He got up, flustered, and she hugged his, her arms wrapped rather lower than usual on his waist. His arms immediately wrapped around her shoulders.

"Thank you, George. You're wonderful. Will I see you tomorrow?" she asked, her voice somewhat muffled as her face was resting on his chest.

"Uh, yeah, definitely. What would you like to do?" He forced himself to ignore the stream of images that were pushing to the forefront of his brain.

"Dunno," she said happily. "We'll figure it out tomorrow. Goodnight George." She squeezed his middle tightly before walking over to her bedroom.

"Goodnight Hermione." She smiled at him when she got to her door and gave him a little wave. He smiled at her before walking to the door and heading out into the corridor. He leaned his t-shirt-clad back against the freezing cold stone and stared, wide-eyed at the window across from him.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with me?"


	13. Chapter 13

George stood outside Hermione's apartment, unsure of whether to knock or not, as he would be knocking on a portrait. He highly doubted she would appreciate that. She was already watching him suspiciously. He didn't know why. He was here enough that she should not be suspicious of him, but what did he know?

"Well, are you going to go in or not?" the stern young woman in the portrait said sharply, looking down the bridge of her nose at him.

"Well, I don't want to just barge in, but I'm figuring you wouldn't be too happy with me knocking on your portrait."

She rolled her eyes, looking at him as though he was thoroughly feeble-minded, before speaking up. "You won't find her indecent. Just say the password."

"Crookshanks."

As the portrait swung forward, he heard her scoff. "Honestly." He shook his head, ignoring the fact that a portrait had just chastised him, and headed in.

"Hermione?"

"Coming!" he heard her yell from her bedroom. He headed towards the sounds of commotion. "Coming! Hold on!" She hurried out, still trying to pull on one of her boots, and almost tipped over. He rushed forward and steadied her. "Ha. Thank you. I'm just a little frazzled." She finished pulling on her boots and stood up, smiling at George. He thought she looked lovely today, dressed in dark jeans, one of her favorite Weasley sweaters from her Hogwarts years (which fit her more snugly than her usual loose sweaters and flattered her shape more, not that he was looking) under which she was probably wearing a white t-shirt (her favorite thing to wear, he had discovered), and vivid yellow winter boots. With her chestnut curls falling down her back with a few strands twisted and pinned back, keeping her hair from falling into her face, she looked beautiful and George smiled as he saw a nervous smile playing across her face.

"Mione, what is with those boots?" He laughed as she looked down at her bright yellow boots and looked up, a look of indignation on her face.

"What about them? I love them. They're happy."

"The boots are happy?" He smiled, teasing her.

"Yes! They are a happy color and they made me happy therefore they are happy." She made a little hmmph noise that clearly said "So there." George grinned at her.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," he said, opening his arms for a hug.

"Happy Christmas, George!" She beamed and moved forward quickly, hugging him happily, but with such force that he had to take a few quick steps back to maintain balance. He squeezed her tight to his chest before she moved back.

"You ready?" he asked quietly, the concern evident on his face.

She gave him a nervous smile before saying quietly, "Yeah. I'm ready."

"Who's my brave girl? Who's my brave girl? Who is she?" he said teasingly, his voice one proper for talking to a puppy but not a person. She swatted him, moving to walk away, a falsely annoyed look on her face. He pulled her back and held her close to his chest in an embrace. "All joking aside, I am proud of you for doing this, Hermione," he said quietly, his voice soft and serious.

"Thanks George. For helping me." She gave him a quick squeeze before they separated.

He proffered his arm, assuming a supercilious manner. "May I escort the lady from the castle?"

She giggled before sticking her nose in the air and saying in a pompous and affected voice, "You may when the lady has found her coat and mittens." He laughed as she rushed around looking, then walked back, two coats in her hands. "You forgot your coat here the other night. Weren't you freezing walking out to Hogsmeade?" She began to pull on her coat.

He froze, remembering.

 

_"What the bloody hell is wrong with me?"_

_He cradled his head in his hands. "What in the world was that all about?"_

_He headed down the hall, trying to get away as quickly as possible, wanting to distance himself from the feelings he had had when she had made that joke. And then taken off her sweater. And then hugged him tightly. And then walked to her bedroom._

_"Oh bollocks!" he cursed aloud as he walked down stairs and along hidden passageways. "This is so not what is supposed to be happening."_

_He made it out the front door and shivered as the cold air hit his exposed skin. Bollocks. He had forgotten his coat in her sitting room. There was no way in hell he was turning around and going back. Not tonight. No way. He gritted his teeth and began to run through the snow, the howling wind biting at his skin, making it burn from the intensity of the cold. He soon got outside the gates of Hogwarts and turned quickly on the spot, landing a second later in his apartment. He flicked his wand at the fireplace and a roaring fire sprang into being. He collapsed onto the couch. He groaned._

_"Not again."_

 

"That's where it got to! No wonder that was a cold walk out to the gates! I guess I was just too tired to even think. Thanks much. I'll leave it here for now and pick it up when I drop you off tonight."

"George, you don't have to bring me home."

"Just in case. Just like I promised, right?"

She smiled at him before asking sniffily, "Weren't you going to escort me somewhere?"

"Oh yes. I had forgotten. Shall we?" He walked over to her fireplace and a thought hit him. "I really should have used this the other night instead of walking to Hogsmeade in that storm." He felt incredibly stupid.

"Well, now you know, I suppose," she said, taking a pinch of floo powder. He did the same.

"You ready?" he asked again, looking over at her, concerned.

"As ready as I'm going to be."

"Good girl." He smiled at her before throwing his powder into the fire and shouting "The Burrow," stepping in and suddenly disappearing in a whirl of emerald flames.


	14. Chapter 14

George stopped spinning and stepped out of the fireplace, shaking soot off his coat.

"George is here!"

He looked about, trying to see who had made the announcement to the house, when Hermione whizzed into the fireplace, stepping out slightly unsteadily. He put out his arm reflexively and steadied her.

"Thanks," she said with a quick smile. George discovered who had announced their arrival, as Ginny rushed forward and embraced Hermione.

"Hermione! How are you? Oh, I'm so glad you came! I was worried you weren't going to come! Oh, I'm so excited. You're looking a lot better. How are you feeling?" He grinned, seeing Hermione looking slightly overwhelmed at all the statements and questions that she had just been barraged with, and turned to see his family walking into the room to greet them.

"Hey Dad," said George, taking off his coat before heading over to Mr. Weasley and giving him a hug.

"Hello, George. How's business? Everything going alright?"

"Yeah, great business on the days we're not shut in due to the snow and Hogsmeade weekends are always busy. Last weekend, I actually had to go to Diagon Alley and pick up extra boxes of merchandise because we ran out so quickly."

"George!" He turned away from his father, who was moving forward to greet Hermione, and was hailed by Charlie and Percy.

"Hey!" He headed over to greet his older brothers.

 

Hermione was just finishing answering Ginny when Mr. Weasley came over. "Hello Mr. Weasley!"

"Oh, it's Arthur, Hermione, you know that," he said jovially, pulling her into a hug.

"Old habits die hard," she replied with a smile, making him laugh.

"Hermione!" Harry rushed forward and swooped her up into a huge hug, spinning her around. "I've been so worried! How are you doing? Why haven't you owled me back?"

"A lot better. And you've been sending me letters?"

"Ginny!" Harry called across the room, exasperated. "I told you those post office owls were rubbish! She hasn't gotten a single letter!"

"Well, then buy a bloody owl. I keep telling you!" She rolled her eyes at her husband before resuming her conversation with Fleur, who had entered the room, three year old Victoire in her arms.

Harry turned back to Hermione, an amused smile on her face. "So things are going well, I presume?" she asked teasingly, knowing they had been married for two years and still felt like newlyweds.

"Quite," he replied, grinning at her. "School's going well?"

"Yeah, just busy with O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s coming soon. How's Teddy?"

"He's great! He's over with Andy. He wanted to spend Christmas morning with her, and they should be showing up soon."

"Oh good! I can't wait to see how much he's grown. I just-" She froze, having looked up and seen who had slipped into the room, relatively unnoticed. The conversations faded as everyone turned to see what was going on, the tension tangible in the room. Hermione looked over at Ron, who was staring at her, a nervous look on both of their faces. Her eyes immediately filled with tears at the memory of their last argument almost five years ago, when he had practically excommunicated her because she was dating Malfoy.

 

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," Ron said quietly, a small smile on his face, which faded as he saw she still looked nervous. George had the overwhelming urge to go over and hug her as he saw a few traitorous tears slip from under her lashes and slide down her face.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Ron said quietly. Hermione burst into tears and ran at him, throwing all her weight against him as she buried her face in his neck. Trying to catch his balance, he hugged her tightly, obviously trying not to cry. "I'm so so sorry, Hermione," he said again. A muffled "It's okay," was heard between the sobs as she cried into his shoulder, overwhelmed with emotions at the fact that everything with one of her best friends in the world was now basically resolved. They hugged for a good five minutes, Ron rubbing her back as she tried to calm down. The rest of the family smiled and resumed their conversation, happy that that particular burnt bridge had been rebuilt. When she had finally calmed herself down, she let go of Ron, both smiling happily.

"I missed you, Mione," he said quietly.

"I missed you too, Ron." Hermione was prevented from saying anything more as Mrs. Weasley, who had watched their reconciliation from the doorway, headed over to welcome Hermione.

 

"Well, that went rather smoothly," muttered George to Ginny, who he had just begun saying hi to when Ron had entered. He saw the pleased look on her face, and something in his head clicked. "Did you have a hand in this, by any chance?"

A sly smile spread across her face. "I might have guilted him with the news of their breakup and how torn up she was. And he might have been blamed for her not telling anyone about it or how she was doing. But you didn't hear any of that from me."

George grinned at her, ruffling her hair. "We taught you well." She winked at him before heading to talk to her husband.

 

"Hermione, dear! I am so glad you're here! When George first said he was bringing you, I thought he was putting us on, but when Ginny told me he was serious, I couldn't have been more pleased! It's been much too long. How are you?" She hugged Hermione warmly, before holding her shoulders and holding her out at arm's length. "Let me get a good look at you. Have they not been feeding you at that school? I swear, grading all those essays will be the death of you; you're wasting away! Well, we'll fix that, won't we?" She smiled at Hermione before pulling her in for another hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Glad to have you back, love." She headed back to the kitchen to finish the final touches for dinner, just as the fireplace turned emerald green and a tall, fair woman with raven hair streaked with silver stepped out of the fire, holding a five year old with messy, turquoise hair that fell into his face, much like Harry's.

"Uncle Harry!" Teddy shouted, wiggling out of Andromeda's arms and running at top speed, colliding into Harry's legs and hugging them tightly. Harry laughed before picking him up and flipping him upside down, the little boy shrieking with laughter.

"You little rascal! You just saw me last night! Go say hi to everyone, alright?" He turned him right-side up and set him down. Teddy rushed around, saying his hellos while Andromeda walked over to Hermione, who was closest to her.

"Happy Christmas, dear. How are you?"

"Happy Christmas, Andy! I'm well. How are you? Enjoying being woken up in the wee hours by the little monster?" Andy chuckled, and was about to respond when a loud "HERMIONE!" was heard. She turned around right in time to see Teddy barreling over to her. She squatted and opened her arms, into which he flew seconds later, almost knocking her over.

"Hello Teddy!" She smiled at the little boy in her arms, whose hair had just shortened and turned into curly brown locks, much like Hermione's own. She sat down on the floor, the little boy in her lap, smiling as he proceeded to tell her all about moving to the "big boy room" that Harry had just finished in Grimmauld Place for him, his sleepovers on the weekends at Grandma Andy's house, and his new decision that he was going to be a centaur when he grew up.

 

As George talked to the rest of the family, his eyes kept flicking back to Hermione, checking on her and making sure she was still smiling. He finished talking to Percy about his new job at the Ministry and moved away from the group to take off his sweater. As he set his coat and sweater down in the corner of the room, his eyes fell upon Hermione. Teddy was curled up in her lap, excitedly telling her about something, gesticulating wildly, his now-brown eyes sparkling happily. Hermione held him close, smiling brightly and talking to him about whatever had gotten him so excited. George smiled to himself, watching how good Hermione was with Teddy. She would be a good mother.

'What? Where did that come from?'

He hurriedly assured himself he only thought that because Teddy had made himself look so much like Hermione. The logic was reasonable. 'See, nothing deeper. Just mere observation.'

"So…"

He looked around and saw Ginny next to him, smiling. But it wasn't a normal smile. It was more a smug smile; self-satisfied rather than simply happy. "So what?"

"So you and Hermione…" she said, looking at him expectantly.

"Me and Hermione what," he asked, immediately on the defensive.

"You seem to be awfully protective of her."

"So?"

"Nothing," she replied with a smile that clearly said that it was not simply 'nothing.'

"What?"

"You still doing this just to make sure she's okay?" she asked, although the lilt in her voice made it seem as though she already knew the answer.

"Not you too," he said exasperatedly. "Gin, Lee's given me enough crap about this. Just drop it, alright?"

"Well, you're no fun." She pushed him teasingly, and he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. You know I'm the only truly fun one in this family." They grinned at each other before George's eye strayed over to Hermione. The little boy got up quickly after giving Hermione a hug, and ran over to George, who looked down to see a miniature version of himself, from the freckles and the shaggy red hair to the dark blue eyes and the mischievous grin.

"Hi Uncle George!" George laughed and picked Teddy up quickly, throwing him into the air before catching him again, his bubbly laugh bringing a smile to everyone's faces.

"How you been, Tedster? You married yet?"

The little boy nodded his head happily. "Yup. I've decided I'm married to Auntie Hermione."

"Oh yeah?" George asked, amused. "And does Hermione know about this?"

"Not yet, but s'okay." George laughed, walking towards the couch as the little boy regaled him excitedly about all the new things that had been happening.


	15. Chapter 15

Christmas dinner was a happy affair, the house filled with voices trying to compete to be heard over each other, the delicious aromas of Molly's cooking, and much laughter. Everyone was very happy that Hermione and Ron had made up, and Harry, Ginny and George were thrilled that Hermione was constantly laughing, seemingly carefree and filled with Christmas joy. As everyone finished eating second helping of dessert and bemoaned their aching stomachs, people started preparing to head back home. Bill and Fleur were the first to go, as Victoire fell asleep at the table, her drooping head just barely missing her sticky plate of Christmas pudding. After they saw Teddy starting to fall asleep despite his concentrated efforts to stay awake and finish his dessert, everyone decided it was time to go. George picked up the drowsy five year old, who replied with a hug and a mumbled request of "Auntie Mione." George smiled, walking over to Hermione and passing the little boy off to her. Teddy wrapped his arms around Hermione's neck and smiled as she gave him a big kiss on the cheek. He hugged her and, after giving her a kiss, was handed off to Ginny.

"Are you sure you don't want him to stay over another night, Andy?" asked Ginny, calling over to Andromeda, who was helping Molly clean up. She came over and gave Teddy a kiss on his forehead, as he had fallen asleep on Ginny's shoulder. "You take him home, dear. I'll come over tomorrow to see him. He wants to show me his new bedroom." She went to hug Harry before saying her goodbyes to Hermione and George.

 

"You'll be here for New Year's, right?" Ginny asked Hermione.

"Of course I'll be here," she said, smiling as Ginny readjusted Teddy's head on her shoulder.

"Good! No more being a recluse! What are you doing tomorrow?"

"No idea. Probably just relax." Ginny smiled, bouncing a little up and down, rocking Teddy, who had started waking up. "You're getting good at this, you know? This 'mom business'," Hermione said, hinting.

"Oh shush! Do not let Harry hear you talking about that! I just got back to training after that arm injury and I am not giving that up. Maybe in a couple years, when I'm a bit more beat up and tired of playing Quidditch."

"Ginny, you'll never tire of playing Quidditch. That's a terrible excuse." Hermione crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at Ginny, staring her down.

"Well, maybe soon," said Ginny with a little grin. "But give me a few years. Teddy's enough of a handful on his own and I'm still playing while I have the chance."

Hermione laughed before hugging her; Ginny hugged her with one arm while she held Teddy with the other. As Ginny said goodbye to the rest of the family, Harry came up and gave Hermione a hug, followed by Ron, who did the same.

"We need to get together again soon, not including New Year's. You are going to be here for New Year's, right?" Ron asked.

"Yes, I'll be here." She followed Harry and Ginny over to the floo, into which they disappeared a few seconds later. After giving everyone an extra hug, she met George over by the fire. They each in turn threw in their floo powder, and in a few seconds, they were gone.

 

George stepped out of Hermione's fireplace and joined Hermione on the couch, where she was taking off her boots. He leaned back and rested his arms across the top of the couch. A few seconds later, Hermione sat back, leaning into his chest slightly, her head resting lightly on his shoulder.

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly, but happily.

"For what?"

"For making sure I went. Tonight was wonderful."

"I'm glad you had fun." George smiled as Hermione leaned over, wrapping her arms around his chest and giving him a hug. "Hermione, what are you doing tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, it's Boxing Day."

"Oh, um…sleep in."

"Yeah but after that," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"Dunno. Don't have anything planned."

George bit the inside of his cheek, thinking quickly. "Do you want to do something tomorrow?"

"Like what?" She looked up at him, curious.

"Well, I'll figure something out, but what I'm asking is, you're free tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah…I thought we covered that." She looked at him, the little crinkle she got between her eyebrows when she was confused or angry appearing on her forehead.

"Okay, cool. I know just what we should do."

"Which is…?"

George looked at her as though she was crazy. "Well, I can't tell you! It won't be a surprise then!"

Hermione buried her face into his shirt, muffling her yell of "AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH."

George chuckled. "Care to run that by me again?"

"You are so aggravating sometimes," she said, frustrated, although her voice was still muffled.

George laughed, ruffling her hair and receiving a shrill "HEY!" "But that's all part of what makes you love me," he said jokingly, before freezing, realizing what he had just said.

She just laughed and shook her head. "You're just lucky you're funny," she teased, too busy trying to flatten down the hair he had just made frizz up to fully notice what he had said. He released a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"Well, I'm off," he said, standing up and grabbing both of his coats.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked, following him over to the fire.

"Indeed. Goodnight Hermione." She hurried forward and gave him a tight hug, which he returned.

"Goodnight George." She watched as he threw the powder into the fire and disappeared.


	16. Chapter 16

George woke up and got ready for the day he had planned with Hermione before realizing she had said she was going to sleep in. He looked at the clock.

It was only eight o'clock.

Bugger.

He waited about, trying to distract himself for two more hours, but as soon as the clock struck 10, he flooed over to her apartment. As he stepped out of the fireplace, he said happily, "Good morning!" realizing too late that he was wishing a good morning to an empty sitting room. "Hermione?" he called, walking around before realizing that she must still be asleep. He tiptoed over to her room and slowly opened her door. The room was dark with a few beams of sunlight fighting to get through the slats in the closed shutters. As he walked over slowly, he smiled. He had never seen her look this calm or this content before. She looked utterly at peace as she slept on her side, her legs curled up close to her body, her arms hugging the pillow, her curls fanned out around her. He almost didn't want to wake her; she just looked so happy. He sat on the edge of the bed next to her, brushing a few curls from her forehead before whispering, "Hermione."

 

 

She was in her childhood home, sitting at the breakfast table, her curly pigtails bobbing as she happily bounced her head from side to side. Her mother, her favorite light blue apron over her crisp, white work blouse and her black trousers, walked over and set down a plate of eggs and sausage, but the yoke was blue and the sausage was purple.

"Mommy, why are they-?" she began asking, when suddenly, she was older and dressed in regal attire in a sort of palace. As Hermione sat in her comfortable red throne, she looked down at the distraught man in front of her.

"I'm sorry. I really am."

"That won't make up for what you've done," she said coldly, a sense of empowerment flooding her as she proudly shook him off.

"Please, just let me explain," he begged.

"There is no need. We are finished here." She stood up imperiously and the throne room faded, turning into a Hogwarts corridor.

"You should learn to respect your superiors, Granger," said the cold, cruel voice of a teenage Malfoy.

"You? My superior? That's a laugh," a teenage Hermione replied derisively. She heard Harry retort angrily from behind her. Malfoy said something, a sneer twisting his lips, but Hermione didn't hear either of them. As if refocusing the lens of a camera, everything around her went blurry and sound faded, refocusing on people in the background of the scene. She saw some students she knew, but then realized the twins were in focus.

"How can you just stand here?" asked George angrily, trying to shake Fred's restraining hand from off his shoulder. As Hermione turned to see where his eyes were trained, she saw his glare was directed at the teenage Malfoy, who was arguing with the teenage Hermione in a sort of haze.

"Hermione's a tough girl; she can handle this all on her own," replied Fred soothingly.

The dream faded again and reformed into a deserted hallway of the castle. It was obviously post-war, as there were places in the wall where a curse had gouged out part of the stone. She was inspecting a painting, seeing if there were any burns or anything that needed mending. As she studied the painting, she played with the loose end of her plait, which draped over her shoulder and rested on her left side. Just as she started focusing on a certain part of the painting, sure there was some kind of spell damage, someone came up from behind her and grabbed her about the waist, a hand covering her mouth as she moved to scream. She heard a chuckle by her ear and the hold on her waist and mouth became less forceful, softening, almost sensual.

"Wandering the castle all alone. Tsk tsk. What were you thinking?" said a smooth, deep voice in her ear, the man's breath making the loose tendrils of hair dance, tickling her face. The hand on her mouth moved away and trailed slowly down to her waist. Hermione turned quickly, a smile on her face.

"Draco, you had me scared! Don't do that!" She swatted him teasingly. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer as his hands rested on the small of her back.

"But it was a perfect opportunity; how could I resist?" He grinned devilishly at her, making her giggle.

"Thank goodness I heard your voice, otherwise I would have hexed you from here to next year!"

"And harm this handsome face?" he cried in mock-anguish. "How could you? Destroy a work of art like this? A crime against nature!"

She laughed, burying her face in the crook of his neck, loving the way he always smelled of mint and a hint of something warm that she couldn't put her finger on. Her fingers played with his hair, her arm wrapped around his shoulder. She felt him smile against her and raised her head to face him. He smiled lovingly at her before leaning in, pressing his lips softly against hers. He deepened the kiss, holding her close to his chest. She pressed against him, kissing him deeply as she ran her fingers through his hair. As they slowed and then stopped, he rested his forehead against hers and chuckled.

"It was a perfect opportunity; how could I resist?" She laughed quietly at his repeating his earlier statement. Her eyes slowly fluttered opened and she moved her head slightly so as to look into his eyes. She looked up and gazed into a pair of cobalt eyes sparkling at her. She gasped slightly, taken by surprise.

"Hermione," he said softly, calling to her. She rubbed her eyes and opened them again. In Malfoy's place was George, his arms still wrapped around her waist as though he had been there all along. "Hermione," he said again. She felt a pressure on her shoulder. "Hermione, wake up." She awoke with a start, her eyes snapping open, a pair of dark blue eyes above her.

 _"GEORGE!"_ She hugged the pillow to her chest, startled.

"It's okay! Hermione! It's okay!" He rested a hand softly on her arm, a worried look on his face.

"Wha-, what are you doing here?"

"We were going to hang out today, remember? I'm sorry. I thought you'd be awake by now, but since you weren't, I came to wake you up."

As he was talking, Hermione became acutely aware of her current state of undress, as she was only in an old t-shirt of her father's and some knickers. She also realized, as she moved her tongue around a mouth that felt like it was full of wool, that she had definite morning breath. She pulled the sheet up, covering her mouth.

"What were you dreaming? You looked so happy?"

Her eyes snapped to his as she hurriedly tried to make up an excuse, the image of her looking up at George instead of Draco still imprinted in her mind. "Childhood memory," she said from behind the sheet.

"Well, good morning!" he said with a smile, which she returned, although he probably couldn't see it from behind the sheet. "So how soon can you be ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"Dress for the snow," he said cryptically.

"Walking through or actually staying out in the snow?"

"The latter." He smiled happily at her before springing up. "I'll fix you up something for breakfast. You get ready!" He bounded happily out of the room. She watched the closed door for a moment before quickly running to the door and locking it. After double-checking that it was indeed locked, she leaned her back up against the door, trying to get her head straight after that dream.

"Where the bloody hell did that come from?"

 

 

After cleaning up and eating the surprisingly delicious breakfast George had prepared, Hermione walked outside with him, all wrapped up from head to toe in warm and waterproof clothes. As he led her out to the front of the castle, where the white expanse seemed to stretch to the dark line of the Forbidden Forest, she walked around, smiling at the bright blue sky and the pure white snow. Everything just looked so vivid and bright today. She looked around happily when she heard a SPLAT! and felt something collide with the back of her head, freezing cold slush dripping down the back of her collar. She reached back and wiped her neck, turning around to see an innocently-smiling George watching her from a ways away. He winked.

"Oh. You better watch yourself, Weasley. THIS. MEANS. WAR." She heard a cackle from somewhere to her left, but she ducked down to make a snowball, avoiding the hurtling slushball he had thrown her way. "Bugger it," she finally muttered. She waved her wand and immediately about ten snowballs appeared. She picked up one, hiding her wand behind her back, and threw it, all ten hurtling towards him.

"AAAUUUGGGHHH!"

She looked over to see George covered in snow, wiping it forcefully from his eyes. "Oh no you don't, Granger." He raised his wand, and the war had begun. They ran, making and firing snowballs at each other as quickly as they could while avoiding being targeted. Their shrieks and laughter had attracted some attention, and quickly, many students from varying years came up and joined in. Soon a full-fledged battle of the sexes was being waged.

 

 

Their snow fight had been waging for about an hour, and Hermione was determined to payback George for his shot at her when she was unprepared. She crept through the trees, silently sneaking around the battle to the boys' side. George was busy making snowballs so the boys could hurl them over at the girls. She waited until he stood up, surveying his handiwork, before she ran at top speed, catching him around the waist and tackling him.

"AAAUUUGGGHHH!" They fell into a snow bank and she heard an OOF as the air got knocked out of him, as his back had collided with the ground, with her body weight making the impact even harder. She got up and laughed as the top of the snow bank avalanched on top of him, covering everything but his legs. She laughed so hard she snorted, which only made her laugh harder. She walked forward, wiping her streaming eyes.

"Having fun, George?"

There was no answer.

"George?"

Nothing.

"George? Are you okay?" she asked, now starting to get worried. She leaned over when his face should be. Suddenly, two arms shot out from the snow and, before she could react, pulled her down into the snow bank, her face smashing and sinking into about two feet of snow.

"Now I am," she heard his laughing voice from above her. Not knowing exactly where he was, she kicked out as she tried to get up. She heard a gasp of pain, and heard his knees hit the compacted snow. She looked up, finally having pulled herself from the snow, and saw him clutching his stomach, red in the face.

She smiled. She had hit her mark. Justice was served.

"What was that for?" he gasped, trying to catch his breath.

"You scared the living daylights out of me! I thought something had happened to you!"

"What, and you were disappointed it hadn't, so you decided to make sure I got injured?"

She threw a handful of snow into his face. She thought it was a good answer, but immediately regretted her choice as he lunged forward, knocking her back into the snow.

 

 

As they walked slowly back up to the castle, their faces frozen and their bodies aching, they waved that the students who had yet to give up the good fight. She laughed tiredly, leaning against George, who had his arm thrown around her shoulders.

"I'm bloody exhausted," he said, staggering slightly as they headed up the stairs.

"Me too. And I'm desperately hungry. You got a plan for that, Mr. It's-A-Surprise?" she said jokingly.

"Actually, Little Miss Sarcasm, I do." She rolled her eyes as the smirk he sent her way. She pushed him lightly.

"Hey! Sore ribs. I had some bird trying out for the rugby team using me as tackling practice." He stuck his tongue out at her.

"Oh, that's real mature."

"Who said I wanted to be mature?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but halted. "Huh. You got me there."

"Little Miss Perfect doesn't have an answer? What is this world coming to?" She rolled his eyes and kept walking as he dramatically threw himself about in mock fear and anguish, crying about the coming of an apocalypse. He caught up a few seconds later. "Well, you're no fun," he teased.

"Who said I wanted to be fun?" she asked, deepening her voice, mocking him.

"Umm…I believe the correct answer would be that you said that," he replied, raising both his voice and his hand, imitating her.

"Bugger off," she muttered, though she was still smiling.

"There's my girl," he said, laughing as he slung his arm around her shoulders again.

 

 

Once they had gotten back to Hermione's apartment, he had flooed over to his apartment to quickly shower and change into dry clothes, as they were both soaked from snow from all the fighting and sweat from all the running around. She hurried into the bathroom, taking a quick shower before running back to her room. She was too exhausted to do anything more than dress for comfort. She pulled on a pair of flannel men's pajama pants that she loved, not only because they were soft and warm, but they were baggy and had pockets – two attributes women's pajama pants never had, and a white t-shirt. She pulled her wet hair back into a plait and went out to the sitting room just as George was stepping out of the emerald flames. He took one look at her, then looked down at himself. He was wearing a pair of nice fitting, but obviously worn pair of dark khaki trousers, the knees and hems frayed from wear, and a bright blue t-shirt that brought out the color of his eyes.

"Did I dress too formally? I thought this was a casual affair, but I guess I was wrong." He grinned at her before coming over, a small paper bag in his hands.

"What's this?"

"This," he replied happily, opening the bag with more drama than was necessary, "is lunch." He pulled out a bag of huge marshmallows, a packet of sausages, a bag of small potatoes, and a few tomatoes.

"Wh-"

"Hold on!" he cried, and with a flourish, pulled two pokers out of the bag. "Undetectable Extension Charm," he replied to the questioning look on her face. He threw one poker over to her. She caught it and looked up to see him holding his like a sword. "Dinner is served!" he replied, his poker slicing through the air.


	17. Chapter 17

New Year's at the Burrow was a lively affair, to say the least. Everything seemed to be in abundance: friends, family, laughter, food, and drink. The sitting room had been expanded and everyone was either talking merrily or dancing about to the music. Hermione sat talking to Fleur, who was terrified at the prospect of her daughter going off to kindergarten this upcoming year as it meant she was growing up, and kept having to be talked off the ledge. She looked over Fleur's shoulder and saw Teddy sitting on George's lap, his turquoise hair vibrant and his hazel eyes sparkling. She smiled to herself, watching George lean close and whisper something to Teddy, which made him beam and blush slightly. Just at that moment, George looked up and their eyes met. She smiled back at his adorably crooked smile and chuckled when he winked at her. A few seconds after she had turned back to Fleur, she felt someone tap her knee. She looked over to see Teddy standing next to her, smiling sweetly at her.

"Auntie Mione?"

"Yes, Teddy?"

He paused for a second, as if trying to place the words in the right order, before asking haltingly, "Will I…umm…no, hold on…umm…May I have this dance?" He quickly looked over at George, who gave him a thumbs-up sign.

She giggled. Teddy could not be more adorable if he tried. "Yes, you may, you handsome gentleman, you." She giggled as the five year old blushed; she was apparently his first crush.

She got up carefully, straightening her dress. It was her absolute favorite, one that her mother had gotten her as a present for when she became a professor; it was a black sheath dress that ended right above her knees with a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves, and she loved pairing it with a thin, brightly-colored belt. Tonight it was bright silver, and she had had silver pumps to match, but she had abandoned the heels hours ago.

She stood, tucking away a stray curl that had fallen out of her updo, and held out her hand for Teddy to hold. "Shall we?" They walked to the center of the room, where a few people were dancing, and she crouched down to pick him up. She swung him up, making him giggle with glee, and he wrapped his legs around his waist as he put one hand on her shoulder and she held the other out with which to lead. She wrapped her other arm around his back, holding him up. They danced about the room, attracting looks and laughter as they spun quickly around, the two of them laughing.

"Dizzy! Dizzy!" he shrieked happily. She laughed and stopped spinning, firmly planting her bare feet on the ground so as not to tip over.

"So, Mister Teddy, where did you learn to ask someone how to dance so nicely?"

"Uncle George said that if I wanted to dance, I had to walk up to a pretty lady and ask her politely. He said that being a gennelmin is important if you want to 'tract the ladies. S'what George said."

She cracked up. "And you're Uncle George is very right," she said, still waltzing around with him. "Being a gentleman is very important. And see, it works. We're dancing." She gave him a kiss on the cheek and he blushed scarlet, his hair turning as red as any of the Weasleys.

"What's this? Teddy has more game than a Weasley twin?"

She spun around with Teddy to see George standing there, his eyes sparkling. "Were you a gentleman, Tedster?"

The five year old let go of Hermione's hand and wrapped both his arms around her neck, resting his head on her shoulder. He smirked up at George, his hazel eyes sparkling, and replied sweetly, "Yes, I was."

Hermione laughed as she saw George's eyes widen and his jaw drop. "You little-! I cannot believe you! You stinker!" Teddy giggled and nuzzled closer to Hermione, grinning evilly up at George, who was still watching him, torn between pride and incredulity. "So I'm guessing there's no possibility of me cutting in?"

Before Hermione could open her mouth, Teddy replied with a cheery "Nope!"

"Sorry George," said Hermione. "I guess this five year old is just smoother than you are. Bummer." She grinned evilly at his flabbergasted expression before spinning away with Teddy.

 

 

As the little ones were put to bed, the adults moved from the couches to the center of the room, dancing and enjoying themselves, the alcohol kicking in slightly for some. Ginny was spinning around with Harry, giggling madly. Hermione smiled from her spot on the sofa, where she was sipping her Butterbeer. They were so madly in love, and it warmed her heart finally seeing them together, the fear of danger or death far behind them. Her view was suddenly blocked by a tall figure. She looked up from the dark, nicely fitted trousers to the white button-down that had the sleeves rolled up to the elbows to the crooked smile, above which rested those sparkling blue eyes she knew so well.

"Now that the little monster is in bed, may I have this dance?" He held out his hand and she placed hers in it.

"You may," she said daintily. He hoisted her up and spun her around before catching her, resting his hand on her waist. She laughed as he dramatically pulled her out to the floor, exaggerating his movements, making it look like he was trying and failing to dance the tango. He spun her out and then, with a slight pull on her hand, she twisted back to him, her back resting against his chest. With a quick and fluid movement that had to have been practiced, he lifted both their arms and spun her so she faced him.

"Well, you're awfully good at this."

"Who knew McGonagall was such a good dance teacher?"

"You lie! She did not teach moves like that!"

He laughed. "Alright. The jig is up. The truth?" He paused dramatically before leaning forward, his mouth right next to her ear, whispering conspiratorially. "I'm just an incredible dancer." She cracked up, making him laugh, and she leaned her head on his chest, grinning, not noticing that a certain redhead was watching them from across the room, a sly smile on her face.


	18. Chapter 18

It was midway through January when Hermione received a letter from a familiar eagle owl. She opened up the letter slowly, not sure what to expect.

_Hermione,_

_I've just gotten back from Europe and I have a week back in England before I have to head back for work. Could we meet up this Sunday evening, maybe at the Three Broomsticks? I want to make sure you get your Christmas present. Let me know._

_Draco_

Hermione stared at the paper. She reread it three more times before accepting it was real. He wanted to make sure she got her Christmas gift? This seemed odd to her, as she had sent his to him by owl, despite the breakup. She had spent forever picking his gift out, and she didn't want it to go to waste. He had always marveled at the men's watches whenever they went out into the muggle world, so she had found the perfect Rolex tank watch for him, and it had sat in her pajama drawer for months, since last summer. But why did he want to meet her? Why didn't he send it like she had? Did he really just want to see her? Did he, maybe, regret the breakup and was using this as an excuse to just see her and maybe, just maybe, get back together? She stopped herself, reminding herself that it might be him simply wanting to make sure she liked her gift and nothing more. But despite the warnings her head kept giving, her heart was ready to burst with hope.

 

 

She walked slowly towards the Three Broomsticks, nervously fidgeting with the hair she had taken extra time with. She had taken extra care with everything about her appearance, her brain telling her it was not necessary, but her heart, now pounding furiously in her chest, had blocked out any logical, Hermione-ish reasoning. She walked in and scanned quickly; he was not here, so he must be in the back. She knew Draco was never late, and knew this instance would not be any different. She walked towards the back room, and saw the back of his pale blonde head.

"Draco," she called as she walked over, fighting to keep the hope from her voice. He turned and smiled, standing up to give her a hug.

"Hermione, I'm so glad you could come."

She sat down, acting as though she hadn't expected a kiss to accompany that hug, when in reality her heart ached a little as she was forced to remember that they weren't together anymore.

"So how's work?"

"Umm…it's good. A bit of an uphill battle, you know, just trying to get them back to working after such a long holiday. They're not ready to accept that the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s are creeping closer. How's Europe been? Where have you been moved?"

She listened to him talk about his new position as an ambassador for the International Confederation of Wizards, about how he'd been traveling nonstop, how he had been stationed in the south of France for the past two months, and this is the first time he'd been in England since last September.

"Oh, I have something for you." He reached down and pulled something out of the pocket of the cloak that was hanging over the back of his chair. He pulled out a beautifully wrapped present and handed it to her. As he handed it to her across the table, his left sleeve pulled up, revealing the Rolex watch she had given him. Her eyes quickly flicked down before she raised them again to the present he was handing her.

"It's shrunken down so I could carry it more easily."

He tapped it quickly with his wand, and the present grew to a somewhat lumpy rectangle that was about a foot by a foot and a half. She placed it down on the table, pulling at the gold ribbon before carefully unwrapping the emerald wrapping paper. She gasped slightly when she saw what as before her: a pad of thick paper, an empty plastic palette, twelve tubes of paint, a few brushes, and a few pencils and erasers. Underneath the pad of paper was a small book entitled "Watercolor" by Walt Williams.

"I know you always said you wanted to learn how to watercolor, so I got you everything you need to start."

She looked up, her eyes a bit misty. She had mentioned her love of watercolors about three years ago, when they had gone to a museum that had had an exhibit on watercolors, and hadn't mentioned it since. The fact that he had remembered this little fact meant so much to her.

"Thank you, Draco. It's perfect." She smiled at him, his familiar warm smile meeting hers.

"I'm glad you like it. I love my watch, by the way." He pushed up the left sleeve of his heather grey cashmere sweater, revealing the shining silver watch.

"Oh, you're wearing it!" she said happily, pretending she had not searched for it on his arm earlier. "I'm so glad you like it."

They fell into comfortable conversation, and Hermione, despite her inner-warnings, had an optimistic view of the evening so far. He had remembered her love of watercolors, he was wearing her watch, and he was even wearing the sweater she had given him a few years ago. These were all signs he had been thinking of her, weren't they? She had dropped a few flirty hints earlier, but he had seemed to not pick up on them, and finally, an hour into their meeting, she couldn't resist.

"So, what brings you back to England?" She smiled at him, cocking her head slightly to the side as if to say 'Was it me?'

"Actually, they want me to move out to Biarritz, down in the south of France, so I've been sent home to pack up and take care of everything before I move out."

Hermione's smile faltered. "So, so you're moving. You're leaving England. For how long?"

"Probably the next couple of years. Might stay longer, though. It's really beautiful out there."

"So this was a goodbye as well as a way to get your present to me?"

"Yeah. I wanted to make sure I got to see you before I left." He smiled at her, softly squeezing her hand, which was resting on the table next to her Butterbeer.

"I'm glad I got to see you too." She held his hand, running her thumb along the top of his hand. She bit her lip, measuring her next words. "I really miss you, Draco. I was wondering if, maybe, your wanting to meet me was you missing me too."

"I do miss you, Hermione."

She smiled before looking down at the table, nervous. "So do you think…do you think we could try again?" She looked up hopefully, but was met with a nervous and apologetic look.

"Oh Hermione…I, umm, I'm so sorry." She looked at him, confused. "I don't think so. I'm leaving for a few years and I'm…umm…I've been seeing someone off and on lately."

"Oh," was all that Hermione managed to say as she felt her world crashing in around her. She fought to keep her breathing even and her voice steady as she heard him say, "Yeah, a woman in one of the other departments in France's Ministry – Genevieve."

"Oh. Well, good for you," she said, hitching a smile onto her face. She saw him look apologetically at her, and she pulled her hand from his hold. "That's-, that's really, that's really good, Draco. Congrats."

"Hermione…"

"I-, I just remembered I have a meeting with Minerva I completely forgot about."

"At nine at night?" He looked at her, half-incredulous, half-worried.

"Yeah," she said, her voice falsely cheery, even to her ears. "Only time we could both do it. I must be off. Sorry to cut this short."

"Hermione, please-"

"Congratulations again, on France and Genevieve and everything. Thank you for the watercolors. I've-, I've got to go." She picked up the present, dropped them into her bag, and hurried out, pulling her cloak on as she rushed out.

"Hermione!" she heard from behind her, but she didn't look back. She rushed out of the Three Broomsticks, which was mercifully empty by this time, and began to run, not caring about the snow, not caring about the other people walking down the High Street, glancing at her with concerned or confused expressions on their faces, not caring that the tears now falling hot and fast were freezing to her cheeks as the icy winds howled and buffeted against her. She ran through the gates topped with winged boars, through the huge front door, through the vacant Entrance Hall, through the empty and echoing hallways, and through the door to her rooms. She dropped her bag, not caring as the contents spilled onto the floor, and ripped off her cloak, leaving it lying crumpled on the floor next to her. She walked into her room, forcefully wiping the tears off her cheeks, and peeled off her clothes, and pulled on her favorite pajamas. She sat on her bed, crying, completely crushed. She picked up her wand from the floor and waved it silently, a silver otter shooting out and soaring out her window. She watched as it soared away, her body wracked with sobs.


	19. Chapter 19

George sat on the couch, reading by the light of the merrily crackling fire. Percy had given him a book entitled "The Loste Arte of Prankyng," a dinosaur of a book that was written in the seventeenth century and apparently "helde the keye to ymprovyng magical skylls as a mastre prankyr." This was truly Percy's way of pranking George – giving him a present that seemed marvelous, but was impossibly difficult and frustrating to read. He had written inside the front cover, "Have fun with this. And try not to give yourself too much of a headache." He sighed exasperatedly and put the book over his face.

"UUUUGGGHHHH," he groaned loudly. "Why the bloody hell can't people write with "i"? The letter "y" should be banned from their vocabulary." He picked up the book again and glanced at the page. He flipped to the end to see if it got any better. Nope. He gave up. He was just setting the book back on his face, as that was apparently all it was good for, when a silvery patronus flew through his window. He sat up quickly, the book falling off his face and onto the floor, as the silver otter spoke in Hermione's voice.

"George, can you come over? I need you. It's an emergency."

The otter looked at him sadly before swimming around once and fading into silver mist. He got up and rushed over to his fire and threw in a pinch of powder.

"Hermione's Hogwarts Apartment."

 

He stepped out of the emerald flames and into Hermione's apartment. She was pacing in front of the fire, her face red and puffy from crying, tears pouring down her face, her hair pulled back into a messy bun.

"Is everything alright?" he asked quickly. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry to _hic_ bother you so late," she said, hiccupping from crying so hard. She wiped her nose with a tissue before looking up at him, her voice hysterical, "I need a tissue!"

"Okay," he said reassuringly.

"Okay," she said, throwing it over her shoulder and continuing her pacing, her voice choked. George followed her and sat down on the couch, pulling off his hunter green sweater.

"So he writes me and wants to _hic_ meet me to give me my Christmas gift. So I meet him."

George watched her pacing, concerned, immediately catching on that this was about Malfoy, and held out a box of tissues for her. She grabbed at them, wiping her face before throwing them over her shoulder as she paced, half-crying as she explained.

"He wants to know how I am. Fine, how are you? _Hic._ Fine. He's got a _hic_ promotion and has been all around Europe working for Inter- _hic_ -national Confederation of Wizards. He's been swamped with work. Blah blah blah. And I keep thinking, 'He wants me back.' Why else would he want to _hic_ meet to give me my gift? I _hic_ sent his to him. Why he couldn't do the _hic_ same? And he keeps giving me signs and he says he _hic_ misses me and then he brings up his big news. He's moving to _hic_ France for the next couple of years. And he came to say goodbye. And he _hic_ holds my hand as he's saying this stuff, and all I can think is _hic_ "Maybe he wants to fix this; maybe he wants to _hic_ give it another try." So I mention this, being a complete idiot, and he says-"

At this point, she's crying completely now, and her voice has reached a hysterical pitch.

"He says, 'I've been seeing someone off and on.' _Hic hic hic._ Her name is Genevieve. She works at the _hic_ Ministry there. She's supposed to be his rebound! She's not supposed to completely replace me! _Hic hic._ "

She sat down with a _flump_ next to George, and he put his arm around her immediately. "All this time, I've thought maybe it was work. Maybe I just got too stressed and let it out on him. Maybe if I calmed down, we could be fine. But in reality, _hic_ he just didn't want to fix things with me. Why didn't he want to date me? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you," he replied, brushing an unruly curl from in front of her eyes.

"I'm demanding."

"You're challenging," he said in a comforting tone.

"I'm too guarded; I'm overly structured."

"But in a good way."

"No no no! I scared him away!" she said, utterly hysterical. "And I'm going to be thirty!"

"When?"

"SOMEDAY!" she said, completely losing it.

"In seven years," he said, trying to reason with her.

"But it's just sitting there, leering at me, telling me I'm going to be single forever. I'll never get married. Ginny's already married!"

"Yeah, but she's been obsessed with Harry since she was ten. You knew as soon as he held an interest in her, she was going to pounce."

Hermione started laughing, which immediately turned into more crying.

"Come here," he said, opening his arms. She fell into his chest, wiping her nose on his shirt. He looked down. "Eh, don't worry about it. It's not one of my favorites." As she cried into his chest, he held her close. "It'll be okay, Mione, it'll all be okay." He kissed the top of her head, holding her close. He picked her up and set her in his lap, cradling her as she sobbed. At one point, she started shivering, probably because of all the energy exerted into crying had left her little with which to warm herself. He grabbed his sweater and helped her pull it on. "Come on, Mione; let's get you to bed." He carried her to her bedroom and set her down lightly. As he moved to pull his arms out from under her and pull up the covers, she held him tighter.

"P-please st-stay, George."

He took one look at her sad, mahogany eyes and melted as he saw how completely lost she was.

"I'll stay for as long as you need me. Budge up." He cuddled onto the bed next to her and wrapped his arms around her as she pressed herself to his chest, her crying lessening into little hiccups and occasional bursts of tears. He didn't know how long he lay there, holding her as she finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, and he didn't know how long it was after that that he fell asleep. All he knew was that a part of him, a part that he was desperately trying to ignore, told him that laying here, holding her to his chest, being the one she called when she was hurting, being the one who made her feel safe, was where he always wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this and you noticed its resemblance to Sally's freak out in "When Harry Met Sally," you are very right - it's modeled after than rather closely because I think it's the best (and most realistic) crying scene I've ever seen.


	20. Chapter 20

George woke up as the weak January light streamed through the windows, the shutters not having been shut. He blinked and looked around. He was in Hermione's room, and his arms were wrapped around Hermione, who was curled up so close to him, it was like she was trying to disappear into him. He smiled down at her, the emotional side of him wishing he could just lay there and hold her, but the logical side of him knowing she would be freaked out waking up like this, not having been completely there last night. He slowly loosened his arms around her and, even more slowly, started scootching away from her. It took about five minutes, but he finally managed to extract himself from the clutches of both the sheets and Hermione, who, thank Merlin, had stayed asleep. He found another pillow and put it in her arms as his replacement, which she hugged to her chest.

'No use getting jealous of a pillow,' he told himself, half-jokingly.

He closed the door to her bedroom quietly as possible before walking out to the living room. He stared around, not having realized what a mess she had made in all of her misery last night. He found his wand lying on the coffee table and picked it up. With a wave, the tissues were in the trash, the contents of her purse were replaced, the purse and cloak flew to the entryway and hung themselves up on the coat rack, and the rest of the room cleaned up from the mess she had made. He went to use the loo, and after, headed to the kitchen to make her some breakfast. He was worried, as she was supposed to be teaching classes today, and he didn't know how she would hold up. He was just thinking about writing a letter to McGonagall when he heard the door to her bedroom open quietly.

 

Hermione started waking up as she felt someone move away from her and the mattress rise a bit.

"Go back to sleep, Mione," she heard a deep, comforting voice whisper as they pulled the covers up to her shoulders, tucking her in. She started falling back asleep, her face resting against the soft pillow in her arms, but woke as she heard bathroom door close and the toilet flush a few moments later. She looked around, her head feeling fuzzy and oddly heavy, as though she had a head cold. She moved and felt her hand trapped by something soft. She pulled her arm up to her face, and realized she was wearing a soft green sweater that was too big for her. Without thinking, she held the material up to her face and smiled slightly. It smelled of sandalwood and that warm, clean smell of fresh laundry. She knew that smell, but could not place it. She looked around the slowly-brightening room and forced herself to remember the night before.

Meeting Draco. Hearing about his moving and his new girlfriend. Running home. Calling George. George holding her. Falling asleep.

She felt drained, as one does after a full night of crying, but somehow felt a bit lighter, as if a weight she had been carrying on her shoulders had been lifted. She didn't know why this was or what the weight was, but she felt less upset than she had the night before. She supposed it was because she had cried everything out of her. She got up slowly and started walking towards the door when she froze. She turned back around and decided to make her bed. Right at that moment, in her too-big pajamas in her small bedroom, staring at her rumpled covers, she made a decision. She now had nothing to hold onto. Draco had moved on, and there was no point in her clinging on to memories of the past. This was going to be a new day; this was going to be a jumping off point for the rest of her life, her non-Draco life.

She smiled, proud with herself, and moved to make the bed. After making sure her room was tidied, she headed to the door and slowly opened it. She padded out into the kitchen area, where she heard the noises of pots and pans being moved, and saw George dipping thick slices of bread into batter before setting it in the sizzling pan, bacon snapping and popping in adjacent pan. She padded over quietly, thankful he was so involved in cooking he hadn't heard her, and wrapped her arms around his waist, her face pressed against his broad back, hugging him. He started slightly and twisted somewhat to see her.

"Well, good morning, beautiful," he said with a smile, so quick yet genuine, it was as if the comment had been instinctual. He wiped his hands quickly on a clean kitchen rag before turning and hugging her tightly. She smiled into his chest, smelling the warm, comforting smell of sandalwood and fresh laundry. Now she knew why she loved that smell and why it soothed her – it was the smell of George.

"You must be blind; there is no way I look beautiful right now."

 

He chuckled and surveyed her. She was wearing her oversized plaid pajama trousers, a sports bra, a camisole, and his green sweater, which looked very flattering on her, despite it being too large. Her hair had fallen out of its bun in the middle of the night, and her curly hair was bushy.

"Well, I think you look beautiful," he said, smiling at her. "So there," he added, sounding very much like Teddy. She giggled and he beamed, happy to see her smiling. "Sit down, I've got breakfast."

She obeyed and in a few moments, he set down a steaming plate of French toast, a heaping plate of bacon, and a pitcher of cold pumpkin juice along with two empty plates, two cups, some silverware, and two mugs of hot tea. She looked down at her tea and looked up at him, smiling.

"You even put in the amount of sugar and milk that I like!"

"Of course," he said with a grin. "Gotta take care of Miss Hermione, now don't I?" She smiled at him and started piling food onto her plate. "Umm…a bit hungry there, are we?" She looked up from her overflowing plate, and moved to say something, but stopped, realizing her mouth was full. She held up a finger, halting him as she rushed to swallow what was in her mouth.

"I realized something this morning. I realized that I'm done hurting myself, mooning after him when he's clearly moved on. I should just get on with my life because I'm just hurting myself trying to hold on to smoke. And I want to thank you so much for last night. I was a wreck and you were the only person I could think to call. I really appreciate you taking such good care of me." She smiled up at him before starting to eat again. He didn't know why, but his heart seemed a bit lighter when she made this proclamation.

"I'm glad you called me, Hermione. I'm here whenever you need me." She reached her hand across the table and squeezed his briefly, sending him a quick smile.

"What time is it?"

He looked at his watch and replied, "Eight o'clock."

"Eight? Ohmigosh! I've got to get ready!" She wolfed down the rest of her breakfast in a manner that would have made Ron proud and drained her tea, standing up quickly. She rushed to the bathroom and turned the shower on to heat up before rushing out to have another sip of her pumpkin juice. He stood up, somewhat amused by her franticness.

"I'll pack this all up so you can have it tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah, that sounds good. I just-." She looked around, frazzled, before rushing up to him and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. He laughed, caught off-guard, and hugged her back. "Thank you so much, George," she said, her voice muffled as she pressed her face into his chest.

"Anytime, Hermione. Truly, anytime you need me, let me know. You sure you're going to be okay today?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "Yeah," she said, as if reassuring him as well as herself, "I'm going to be just fine."

She gave him a quick squeeze before rushing to the bathroom, the door closing with a click. He smiled at the closed door before packing away the rest of the food and putting it in her refrigerator. He looked around, making sure he had everything, before making a decision and heading to the fireplace. He threw a pinch of powder into the flames and stepped in, saying, "Grimmauld Place!"


	21. Chapter 21

As George stepped out of the kitchen fireplace, he looked about, but there was no sign of his sister.

"Ginny! Gin! I need to talk to you! Ginny!"

As he headed out of the kitchen, he came face to face with his dripping wet and paint-splattered brother-in-law. "Hey Harry. What happened to you? You look like you forgot to take your clothes off before you got into a shower."

Harry grinned and ruffled his dripping hair, earning an indignant "Oi!" from George. "I'm painting the bathroom, and I then I went to replace the faucet, because it's ancient and leaky, and it sprayed me. Apparently, it did not like being moved."

"You realize you could do this a whole lot faster with magic, right?" George asked, looking at Harry as if he was a mental patient.

"Yes, but there's no pride in knowing you waved your wand and it's been done without effort. I'd like to know that I worked hard and it was worth it. Plus, it sets a good example for Teddy."

George smiled, clapping Harry's shoulder, where his wet t-shirt was sticking to his skin. "You give us wizards a good name. And strike fear into our hearts at the possibility that our significant others' will expect this of us." He winked at Harry, who laughed.

"Oh yeah? And do you have a significant other that I can scare?" He gave him a knowing smile and raised his eyebrow, expectantly.

"Where's your wife? I need to talk to her," answered George quickly, clearly trying to avoid this topic. Harry chuckled and pointed up. "Probably with Teddy."

"What floor?"

"You expect me to know? I still have trouble finding my own room in this house."

"Bloody hell mate, just make a map for this house. Well, thanks!" With a wave that was returned, he headed up the stairs, Harry heading back to continue waging war with the bathroom.

"Ginny! Gin! Where are you? Gin!"

Finally, on the third floor, she found Ginny with Teddy in his "big boy room," getting him dressed for the day after his bath.

"Uncle George!" He ran over, tripping slightly as his pants slid down his legs, having run over before Ginny could fasten them.

"Hey Monster!" George squatted down and gave Teddy a hug before helping him finish getting dressed. He looked up to see Ginny watching him expectantly, her hands on her hips. "Hey, I have to talk to you."

"So I gathered from your shouting. What's up?" George looked pointedly at Teddy, and Ginny got the idea. "Hey sweetie," she said, walking over to Teddy. "You know what? You should draw Uncle George a nice picture to bring to Auntie Mione, okay?"

"Okay!" He rushed over to his desk and started grabbing at crayons and parchment, terribly excited with his new project.

Ginny walked back over to George, and sat down on the edge of Teddy's bed. "So what's up?"

George burst into speech, all of his pent-up feelings and thoughts rushing out like a waterfall. "So I'm reading that book from Percy, you know, the one that's literally _impossible_ to read, that complete arse, and Hermione's patronus shoots through my window, saying it's an emergency and she needs me. So I rush over, thinking she's hurt or someone's died or something, and she's pacing about, in her pajamas and sobbing, and all I can think is "Dear Merlin, what the bloody hell just happened?" She's completely hysterical and it turns out it's all about that bastard Malfoy. So apparently he wrote her and wanted to meet to give her a Christmas present, and he leads her on, being the complete slimy git that he is, and then, as she finally mentions something about why he's there and seeing her, he drops this bomb. Apparently, not only is he moving to France for a few years, he's dating some French bird. NOT ONLY does he go and tell her that he's not there to see her just 'cause he wants to see her, BUT HE GOES AND TELLS HER HE'S WITH SOMEONE ELSE! WHO DOES THAT? And she completely lost it. She was hysterical, asking what was so wrong with her that he didn't like her and saying she scared him away and then she starts sobbing, saying you've already gotten married and that she's never going to get married. I told her you were freakishly obsessed with Harry, so you were the anomaly."

"HEY!" shouted Ginny indignantly. He waved down her protest, continuing his ranting and pacing about the room.

"So she's a complete wreck, so she cried into my shoulder for a while, and I carried her to her room, because she looked about ready to pass out from exhaustion, and as I'm moving to pull my arms out from under her – I mean, I wouldn't leave; with her being in a state like that? No way – but I move to set her down and then I'll go stay out on the couch, you know, to make sure that she's okay today, because she had to teach, but she holds onto me and asks me to stay. Like with these huge puppydog eyes and everything. And I felt so terrible, because he was such a sodding git to her and she was so torn up about it, so I laid down next to her, thinking that as soon as she fell asleep, I'd move, but she cried for a while longer – I did not know people could cry that much; honestly, I've never even seen you cry that much – and then she fell asleep curled up on me and I didn't mean to but I fell asleep."

He paused for breath and didn't notice the sly smile spreading across Ginny's face. She crossed her arms, her eyes sparkling as she watched him knowingly.

"So this morning, I get up and thankfully she stays asleep, and I go out. I clean up the sitting room because it was trashed – tissues everywhere and stuff thrown about, you know – and I figure I should make her breakfast before she has to head to her classes."

"You made her breakfast?"

"It's what Mum does when people are upset! I figured that's what I should do too! It always seems to help," he replied defensively. "So she wakes up and she gives me a hug and is smiling and I'm wondering, "What happened last night that suddenly she's okay?" And she tells me she's _decided_ to move on because he moved on without her and such. Which is great because she was so torn up about it. Then she rushes around, getting ready for class and I came here, but SERIOUSLY? CAN YOU BELIEVE HE DID THAT TO HER? I JUST-, I CAN'T BELIEVE HE-, no, I can believe he's that much of an arse, but COME ON! YOU DON'T TELL HER YOU'VE MOVED ON ONLY, what, October, November, December, January, four, FOUR MONTHS AFTER YOU BREAK UP! I CAN'T BELIEVE-, WHAT A SODDING BASTARD! HOW COULD HE DO THAT TO HER?

He finally stopped pacing about the room, gesticulating angrily, and turned to face Ginny, who had a very self-satisfied smile on her face.

"WHAT?" he shouted, frustrated by the look on her face.

"So are you finally going to admit it?"

"Admit what?" he spat.

"That you love her."

He froze, then turned to look at his little sister, who was smirking at him knowingly.

"That is just-," he started, angry at her assumption. "That's completely-!" He tried to finish a thought, but it was proving to be difficult. "I am not-, it's just-!"

He looked over at her, wanting to berate her for her presumptuousness, and saw her sitting there, watching him with a kind expression on her face, her eyebrow raised expectantly.

"Crap." He raked his fingers through his hair, staring at his sister with wide eyes.

"You know you've been in love with her for years." He looked at her as if she was nuts, but she held up a hand, halting any possible flow of denials and continued. "And you call me obsessed? You watched her all of your last year, well, all that you were there for. You were the first one to catch on about Malfoy, you were super protective, and you stopped testing on the first years, which Fred thought you were mad for doing, by the by. I know many people didn't notice, but I saw how you looked at her."

"Yeah?" he said derisively, trying to put up a defense. "How did I look at her?"

"As if you finally saw who she was," said Ginny quietly. "Not for the prefect trying to get you in trouble, not for Ron's friend, not for the little bookworm, but for who she was as a person. You studied her the way she studied a textbook, like she was a problem you couldn't figure out, but you were determined to solve it." Ginny looked at her brother, whose mouth was hanging open, any argument dying in his throat before the words hit the air, looking completely lost.

"Admit it, George. The rest of the family has known for a while now. It's only you two that haven't figured it out yet."

He raked his fingers through his hair, desperately looking about the room as if it would send him an answer, any answer. He felt a tap on his leg, and looked down to see Teddy looking up at him.

"Uncle George, are you going to marry Auntie Mione?"

"What?"

"Are you going to marry Auntie Mione? Grandma Molly says that when people love each other, they get married. You love Auntie Mione, right?"

George looked down at the little boy, his brain whirring. He saw Teddy hold out a picture and realized it was a drawing of two stick people, one tall with blue eyes and what looked like orange fire coming from his head and the other with lots of brown squiggles that he assumed was long brown hair. The two stick people were holding hands and had big smiles on their faces. He smiled down at the five year old and crouched before swinging him up into the air and safely into his arms.

"You know what, Teddy? I have no idea, but I do know that you are very right. I do love Auntie Mione, and I have absolutely no idea what to do about it." He looked over at Ginny and saw her smiling at him.

"I'm proud of you."

"For what?"

"For finally admitting it after all these years."

George smiled at her, but his fear shone through. "What the hell am I going to do now?"

"Go get her."

"Isn't it a bit soon? And I don't even know if she feels the same." Ginny saw the lost look on his face that she knew all too well from her years at school spent pining after Harry.

"Go find out. Because when do, you're never going to want to waste another minute of your life without that person. Trust me." Her eyes filled with tears. She knew exactly how he felt – excited, nervous, scared, happy, and lost, all at the same time. "Go win her, George. Don't let Malfoy take her away from you again." She walked over and gave him a tight hug that he returned before taking Teddy from his arms and setting him on the ground.

"Thank you, Ginny. And you especially, Tedster. I've got to go." He ran out of the room, a smile on his face, and she heard him rushing down the stairs. She turned to Teddy, squatted down, and raised her right hand, a smile on her face.

"Did I do good?"

"That was perfect; just like we planned. High five, Teddy!"

He grinned and slapped his palm to hers.


	22. Chapter 22

George woke up at the sound of a _rap rap rap_ noise, followed by the rumble and crack of thunder. He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and looked around. There, at his bedroom window, desperate to maintain its precarious perch as it was buffeted by the pounding rain and howling winds, a medium-sized owl rapped on the window, a note clutched in its talons. George got up and pulled open the window, shivering as the owl flew in on a gust of wet, freezing cold air. George looked at the unfamiliar owl who was now perched on his armoire. She was a sort of grayish brown with bright white bars streaking across the body. In her round, white face was a pair of clever-looking dark brown eyes that were watching him with mild interest, as if she was a baby trying to understand how the world worked.

"Now who do you belong to?" George asked, walking over to the owl, who promptly stuck out her leg. George removed the letter and the owl set to preening itself, proud at the completion of her mission.  
 _  
George,_

_This is Athene, our new owl. Harry finally got one and I just think she's darling. She just adores Teddy; she is always in his room if she's not outside. Anyways, I'm not writing to introduce you to our new owl, but rather to remind you of today. It's Valentine's Day today, and no matter how "fine" Hermione might say she is, every girl either hates being alone on Valentine's Day or simply hates Valentine's Day in general. Make sure to go see her today and keep her mind off of Malfoy. And who knows, maybe you'll get to be her knight in shining armor today…_

_Gin_

He sighed exasperatedly. It's like Ginny was the puppet master, pulling a thread here, adjusting there, moving George closer to Hermione despite her apparent lack of feelings for him. It had been a month since Ginny had made him realize how he felt about Hermione, and he somewhat wished she hadn't. Everything was much more difficult now. He was unsure how to act, how to try and explain how he felt without seeming like a complete cad. Ginny had already fussed at him on numerous occasions for not having done anything yet, but George didn't want to be that guy; he didn't want to be that jerk that preyed on heartbroken girls just because they were desperate. Despite the fact that he felt slightly annoyed at Ginny's constant interference, George knew she was right. He glanced over at the clock and saw it said ten o'clock. Wow. He wasn't usually one to sleep in this late, even on a weekend. He took a shower, pulled on a soft, white button-down, a black sweater, and some khaki trousers, making sure he put an Impervious charm on them, as well as his jacket and shoes, in order to stay dry in this disgusting weather. With his coat in hand, he threw a pinch of powder into the fire, and, a moment later, stepped out into Hermione's sitting room.

She was sitting, curled like a cat, on the couch, reading a book. Her curly brown hair was shiny and twisted up into a bun held in by one of her muggle pens. She was in some black yoga pants and George's green sweater, worrying her bottom lip as she read. He glanced at the cover and read "Taming" and "the Shrew," as the book was turned in such a way that he could only read the words closest to him. She looked up as he stepped out of the fireplace and smiled at him.

"Well, don't you look nice."

"Why thank you," he said, flashing her a grin before setting down his coat and sitting in the armchair next to the couch.

"And to what do I owe this surprise visit on this lovely Saturday morning?" she asked, her voice tinted with sarcasm at the reference to the thunderous storm outside, looking over as she closed her book and held it to her chest, her index finger holding her place.

"Well, I don't know if you've heard, but today is Valentine's Day. And since I abhor this sad excuse for a holiday," he said, silently thankful that his comments were making her grin, "I thought we should celebrate Anti-Valentine's Day!"

"Anti-Valentine's Day?" she asked, amused.

"Yes. We'll go out on this dismally grey and freezing cold day, since it's very unromantic weather, and go do something that involves booing couples being cute."

She burst out laughing and he joined in, as his plan sounded completely ridiculous. "That sounds marvelous," she said when she had finally caught her breath. "Just give me a minute to go change."

"Alright. Dress warmly, it's freezing out," he called to her retreating back. As he waited, his eyes were drawn to the book she had set down, her place marked with a spare bit of ribbon. He glanced around, but her door was still shut. He quickly rushed over, grabbed the book, and rushed back to his seat, copying his earlier position. Still she had not come out. Figuring it was safe, he looked at the cover. The Taming of the Shrew – William Shakespeare. Chuckling at the title, he flipped open the book to a random page and skimmed the page. His eyes caught on the comments made by one character, someone named Katherine.

_"I' faith, sir, you shall never need to fear. I wis it is not halfway to her heart. But if it were, doubt not her care should be To comb your noddle with a three-legged stool And paint your face and use you like a fool."_

George chuckled. Despite the somewhat arcane speech, this girl had managed to completely abuse the man she was speaking to, saying her only interest in him was hurting him and making a fool out of him. To be honest, that kind of spitfire attitude reminded him of Hermione when she was angry. He heard footsteps and he hurriedly threw the book back on the couch. He silently thanked the powers that be that it had landed in almost exactly as she had left it. He turned around, trying to not look guilty, and saw Hermione coming out of her room, dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a white shirt, and her obnoxious yet well-loved yellow boots. She was in the midst of pulling his green sweater on while trying to hold her bag, coat, and scarf. He rolled his eyes before getting up and heading over, taking them from her so she could get the sweater on. He made no comment, but smiled at the fact that she had apparently taken quite a liking to his favorite sweater.

"So where are we off to?" she asked, once she had finally gotten her head through the sweater and combed her fingers through her hair, which had gone somewhat static-y.

"Umm…I dunno, actually. I would think somewhere inside would be preferable, but we should get out of the castle." Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she smiled at him excitedly.

"Come on!" she cried as she ran to the fire and threw in a generous amount of powder. "The Leaky Cauldron!" She grabbed George's hand and dragged him into the fire with her, spinning away on the emerald flames.

 

They toppled out of the fireplace, Hermione falling forward, but at the last second, Hermione felt two strong arms wrap around her waist and pull her back before her face had the chance to have a very unpleasant meeting with the ground. She touched her hand to where his arms wrapped around her waist, hoisting her up, just to make sure he was there and she hadn't hit the ground. He righted her and released his hold on her waist, turning instead to look over at the bar.

"Disaster averted?" said the old bartender, a teasing smile on his face.

"Indeed," said George with a smile. "Sorry we can't stay, Tom. Might come back for a pint before heading home though." Tom nodded his head and smiled after them as Hermione dragged George out the door, his hand clasped tightly in hers.

"So where are we off to?" George asked, looking over at Hermione. She grinned at him, but said nothing. She led them into a deserted alley and, still holding George's hand tightly, spun on the spot. They landed a second later in another alley that led to a smaller, but still busy city.

"Oi! Warn me next time!" George cried, trying to get his breath regulated, having been unprepared for apparation.

"No complaining! Come on!" She started running through the puddles and down the street.

"Hey!"

She laughed, hearing George's heavy footfalls splashing through the puddles as he fought to catch up with her. She stopped under the overhang that sheltered a small, old-fashioned cinema ticket booth. He caught up, breathing heavily, rain dripping off his nose, and shoved her lightly. "That was not fair, Miss Granger." She grinned cheekily at him before ringing a bell for service. A little old man with horn-rimmed glasses and a thick white mustache pottered into the booth from a back room, peering around nearsightedly before seeing Hermione and smiling at her.

"Well hello dear," he said, his voice gravelly but pleasant. "How can I help you?"

"Hello," said Hermione sweetly. "What is your movie today?"

"Singin' in the Rain with Gene Kelly, Donald O'Connor, and Debbie Reynolds."

"Perfect! Two tickets please." She handed some muggle money to the man, George standing next to her, trying not to look as confused as she knew he must feel. "Thank you!"

"Enjoy!"

She grabbed George's hand and dragged him in, visibly excited.

"A muggle cinema?" he asked once they had sat down. They had their choice of seats as they were the only people there besides a very old usher asleep in one of the corner seats.

"Yeah! They only show old movies and usually no one is here, so it's really peaceful. And this is one of my favorite movies; my mom and I used to come here all the time when I was young."

"Well, it's dry, warm, and not hung with hearts, so I'm happy," George joked.

 

The movie started and George was fascinated. The character Don had some definite style, but he seemed a bit cocky. Hermione was staring at the screen, rapt.

"Got a thing for Don?" he asked Hermione teasingly. To his surprise, she tore her eyes away from the screen and looked off into the middle distance, her brow furrowed as if thinking hard. He stared at her for a moment, confused, before she spoke up, still not looking at him, but at the screen, where Cosmo was talking about something.

"You know, Gene Kelly is dashing and handsome, but I like Donald O'Connor more. He's not the huge celebrity that gets all the girls, but he's very witty and very funny. He's not classically handsome like Gene Kelly, but I think his character, who he is, makes him by far more attractive. All he wants to do is bring a smile to people's faces and he always has one on his own. He's the best part of the movie, in my opinion. I've always thought so, ever since I was little." She glanced over at George before blushing slightly and returning her gaze to the screen.

George watched her for a moment, a half-formed question playing on his lips, but turned to see the screen when he saw a bright smile come across Hermione's face. Cosmo, that Donald O'Connor fellow, was doing a song all about making people laugh, constantly crashing into things and doing funny stunts.

_"Now you could study Shakespeare and be quite elite, or you could charm the critics and have nothing to eat. Just slip on a banana peel, the world's at your feet. Make 'em laugh, make 'em laugh, make 'em laugh!"_

Then it hit him. This character reminded him of himself and Fred. And the things she had mentioned sure sounded a lot like a description of himself, besides the not-being-as-handsome part. He remembered she had blushed after looking over at him and he smiled to himself. Maybe there was hope…

 

She glanced over at George, having said these things completely without thinking, and heard Cosmo make a funny line that was similar to something George would say on any given day. George reminded her of Donald O'Connor. She blushed, realizing all she had said referred to both of them, but in her speech she had mentioned Donald O'Connor being very attractive. She turned away from George quickly, her eyes determinedly focused on the movie, but her mind far away. No doubt George was attractive, but everyone with sight knew that. But he did have a lot of those same qualities: the tongue-in-cheek wittiness, the ability to make everyone smile, the merrily sparkling blue eyes. She bit her lip, thinking, but broke into a smile when she saw her favorite scene of the movie was on: "Make 'Em Laugh." She pushed these thoughts away as she watched the movie. At one point, George had wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she had leaned into him, thoroughly at peace.

 

They headed to the Leaky Cauldron after the movie and had a bite to eat, but spent so much time talking they didn't realize a considerable amount of time had passed. They headed over to her apartment and sat on the couch, talking about anything that came to their minds. Her head rested on George's shoulder, comforted by the warm pressure of his arm around her shoulders and his cheek resting softly on the top of her head. She lifted her head to say something and noticed her face was rather close to his, as he had been forced to lift his head when she had moved. The proximity was not what made her breath hitch, however, but rather the way he was looking at her. It was a look, no, a gaze so strong, so striking, she didn't know how to even begin describing all the emotions in it. It was a piercing gaze, so powerful, yet so kind, it was as if he was x-raying her. No, not that, more like… like looking into her soul, searching for something, though she didn't know what. But it wasn't even that. It was a blazing look, a look full of something, some emotion she couldn't put her finger on. She could not remember ever being looked at like this before, and bit her lip unconsciously, feeling that gripping feeling in her stomach, that feeling you got that moment before a kiss. Without thinking, she leaned forward ever so slightly, staring into those piercing cobalt eyes, and she saw them change. The look changed suddenly to a look of desperation, then to a look of sadness. The kind of sadness she had seen in Harry's eyes when he had talked about Ginny when they were on the run.

George moved backwards and, with a deep breath that almost sounded like a sigh, he moved his arm from around her shoulders and got up. A bright smile spread across his face, but the smile did not reach his eyes. "This has been great fun today, Mione. But I best be off. Got a meeting tomorrow with Zonko."

She watched him, still biting her lip, confused about what she had been feeling and what she had just seen. "Umm…oh-okay," she said, getting up and smiling at him. "I'll see you soon?"

"Definitely," he said with a small smile. He opened his arms and she stepped forward into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"Goodnight George," she said as he threw powder into the fireplace.

"Goodnight Hermione," he replied before disappearing in the flames.

 

She sat down, thinking over what had just happened. She didn't know what she had been thinking, thinking George was going to kiss her. And who said she even wanted him to? 'It was probably just my body reacting from memories of situations like that with Draco,' she said aloud to herself. But something, something in the far corner of her mind, the corner where subconscious truth lay dormant, told her that that was a lie.

 

George stepped out of the fire and walked into his bedroom, pulling off his coat and sweater as he did so, leaving them strewn about the house. He glanced over to the armoire, on top of which the picture of Hermione laughing sat in a nondescript frame, too high up for anyone but himself to see. He grimaced before resting his forehead on the freezing windowpane. 'No matter how much holding it in hurts me,' he thought, 'I just can't risk hurting her.'


	23. Chapter 23

George yawned and rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. He knew he was getting tired because the words on the parchment were blurring, going in and out of focus. He heard Hermione yawn from her stretched out position on the couch, her usual pen bouquet sticking out of her bun as she focused her eyes on the essay in front of her. She pulled off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. George had not known she wore glasses, but apparently she had just gotten them this year. 'Who knew spending twelve years staring at dusty volumes by dim candlelight could hurt your eyes,' George thought sarcastically.

It had been almost a month since Valentine's Day, since that night that he had both regretted not kissing Hermione and chastised himself for even thinking that was a good idea. Hermione had gone into her "psycho mode," as George called it in his mind. She had been grading essays and working nonstop and, despite all thought about needing to preserve his sanity, he had been there the entire time. He had been there for not one, not two, but three full-blown anxiety attacks, for the floods of tears from her being over-emotional from lack of sleep, and for the rants and raves about whatever minute thing seemed to aggravate her at that moment. He had been helping her grade all her essays, had put her to bed when she had fallen asleep while grading, and had stayed up, finishing the work for her. Tonight was no different. In the past three days, he had gotten eight hours of sleep _in total_ , as had she, and it showed; they were both on their last nerves.

He finished grading the essay, took his feet down from their perch on the arm of the sofa, and leaned forward, dropping the essay on the table before sitting back in the armchair, stretching out his feet again, and began reading the next essay. He glanced up at movement and saw Hermione lean forward and pick up the essay he had just finished grading. She began to scan it, rechecking what he had done. He gritted his teeth, but forced himself to go back to the essay he was reading. She had done that with every essay so far for the past month, and he was sick of it. It was insulting, as if she believed he wasn't smart enough to know how to grade a bloody essay.

"George!" she said, her voice harsh and reprimanding. "How could you give him points for that? He clearly spelled the incantation incorrectly, which would throw off the whole spell. And this is a terrible explanation!"

"Good Godric," he muttered tersely, sinking deeper into the armchair and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't blame Malfoy." He looked up to see a wide-eyed Hermione, white-faced and livid.

"Did you seriously just say that?" she asked in a dangerously quiet voice, pulling off her glasses.

"Well, apparently I did, since you heard it the first time," he replied back, snarky.

"How dare you! How dare you say something like that! Where do you get off-"

George laughed humorlessly, sitting up. "Where do I get off saying something like that? You're a control freak, Hermione. YOU'RE NEUROTIC."

"WHAT?"

"Yes. Completely, totally, and certifiably neurotic."

"How the HELL am I neurotic?"

"Hmmm…let's see," he said in a falsely thoughtful tone, ticking off examples on his fingers as he talked. "You mark students down for spelling when you're supposed to be checking for content, you expect everyone to be as driven a student as you were, when in reality, most kids are normal. They cram and do it the night before and come to class exhausted. Because that's what kids who don't want to grow up to be just like their professors do in the real world. And you re-grade the essays I correct."

"Yeah? And how the hell am I supposed to trust you with O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. level work, huh?" she said, a cruel smirk twisting her pretty face, making it mean and ugly in all of her fury. "You couldn't even get three O.W.L.s and you ditched school before you could take the N.E.W.T.s. And while you were here, all you did was make your little sweets that make people puke and other juvenile things like that."

"JUVENILE?"

"Yes, juvenile. Do you know what that means or did you ditch school when they were teaching that word to the class?" She sneered at him, her voice mocking, as if she was talking to a three year old.

"Before you go and become any more self-aggrandizing than you already are, _Professor_ ," he spat, emphasizing the word, mocking it, "I came back for the N.E.W.T.s a year later, and I got Outstanding on all of them. Even Defense against the Dark Arts. You know, the class you could never get more than an E in?" He smirked at her cruelly as her face turned vermillion and she stood up angrily.

"YOU ARE THE BIGGEST ARSE I HAVE EVER MET! YOU THINK LIFE IS A COMPLETE JOKE. YOU HAVE NO AMBITION OUTSIDE OF YOUR JOKE SHOP. YOU ARE THE MOST IMMATURE PERSON I HAVE EVER MET. AND THE MOST INFURIATING!" She stood, her fists clenched and her face contorted with fury. He leaned forward, put the papers on the couch, and looked at her, furious but trying to keep it in.

"Hermione-"

"YOU KNOW WHAT? I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT. I DON'T EVEN CARE ANYMORE. YOU'RE BEING COMPLETELY UNHELPFUL AND COMPLETELY CRUEL; YOU'VE HURT ME AND I WON'T TAKE THIS. I'M DONE."

She glared at him, fully expecting him to yell back, to throw something, to hurl more insults at her. Instead, he stood and faced her, his jacket in hand, and replied in a voice of forced calm, "You know what? You're right."

She froze, her mouth hanging open, taken aback, having been fully ready to exchange more insults.

"I may be immature, but at least I haven't forgotten what it was like to be a kid. I do make things some might see as juvenile, but they make people happy, and that's what matters to me. What I said to you was cruel and I am sorry, although I know you, and you'll simply say that words are only words. As much as I don't want to say it, Hermione, Malfoy was right. You're a control freak and you try to impose that on me when all I'm trying to do is help." His voice became raspy and choked, full of raw emotion. "If I was smart, I would leave. I would leave you to your nitpicking and your yelling and your anxiety attacks, but I don't. I wish I could, but I'm mad for you. And sometimes I wish I wasn't. It would make things SO much easier. I could simply be the friend that shakes his head and goes, "Oh that Hermione, working herself too hard." But I can't. I wish I could, I truly do, but I can't. I stay and help you, grade your essays for you so you can get some sleep, hold you when you need a shoulder to cry on, listen when you need someone to be your sounding board. I can't walk away from you, Hermione. You can't walk away from someone you love. And I'm sorry." With a look of complete and devastating anguish, he turned and walked, not to her fire, but to the door. He walked out without looking back, the door closing behind him with a snap.

Hermione stared at the door, her mouth hanging open, her hands limp at her sides. Hermione Jean Granger, for the first time in her life, had absolutely no idea what to say.

.

Author's Note: Harriettlovesbooks, was this the blow up you were looking for? ;)


	24. Chapter 24

Ginny was having a dream, a very pleasant dream about her days with Harry on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Ginny," a Slytherin player hissed as she passed, trying to steal the quaffle. "Ginny!" This time the whisper came from the keeper, right as she was about to score the goal. "Ginny!"

Her eyes opened with a snap, not fully understanding what was going on or why she had awoken so suddenly. "Oh thank Merlin," whispered an aggravated voice to her left. She turned her head and jumped, not prepared to see her best friend this early, let alone in her and her husband's bedroom.

"What the hell is going on?" she mumbled, staring at the fidgety woman next to her.

"I need to talk to you."

"Now?"

"No, not now. In two hours."

"Oh good. Night night." She moved to curl back up, hugging the pillow tightly, but tensed when she felt someone poke her.

"Oi! I was being sarcastic. Come on, Ginny. This is an emergency." Right at that moment, Harry stirred. He turned to roll over and wrap his arm around his wife, but his sleepy eyes connected with Hermione's.

"Hermione! Why are you here?" he half-shouted in surprise. He pulled the covers up to his chin, making Ginny giggle and Hermione roll her eyes.

"I have seen your chest before, Harry. And I'm sorry to wake you, but I need to talk to Ginny."

He shook his head before turning over to go back to bed. "Just get together already. This is getting annoying," he mumbled exasperatedly. Ginny chuckled appreciatively while Hermione looked at him quizzically.

"Hand me my dressing gown? It's on the chair over there," Ginny asked as she moved to get out of bed.

Hermione turned to get the dressing gown and turned back. "AAH! Good Godric, Ginny! Why are you naked?" She held out the dressing gown, her red face turned away.

"Hey, you were the one who woke me up before I had time to put clothes on," she replied, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Merlin, I did not need to know that." She followed Ginny, who was fastening her dressing gown as she walked out of the room.

"Prude," replied Ginny jokingly as she headed down the stairs.

 

Ginny sat down in the sitting room on the plush couch and watched her best friend fidgeting uncontrollably in the opposite armchair.

"So it's about George," she said before yawning. Hermione's eyes widened.

"How do you know?"

"It's obvious. So what happened?"

"So we're up late grading essays-"

"-Which he has been helping you with for the past month."

"Yes, but we're up late."

"How late?"

"Three?"

"And you waited three hours before you woke me? I'm touched," Ginny said dryly.

"You should be. It was agony. Anyways, we're grading essays and I'm checking over one he just finished grading-" Ginny raised her eyebrow, her lips pursing slightly. "-and I see he made this huge error, so I bring it up-"

"So you snap at him…"

"I did not snap at him!"

"Hermione," said Ginny seriously, staring her down. Hermione seemed with deflate somewhat under her hawk-like glare.

"Okay, maybe I was a bit short, but I mention it and he mutters, like he thinks I won't hear him – I mean I'm only a couple meters away – and he mutters, "I don't blame Malfoy." WHAT? I was shocked! I was like "Did you seriously just say that?" and he gets all attitude-y and says "Well, obviously I did, since you heard it." How dare he say something awful like that about The Breakup! So I tell him this, and he cuts me off and calls me a control freak and neurotic. HOW RUDE, RIGHT? COMPLETELY OFF! And so I ask how he even gets off thinking that, and he goes on about me not being like normal students because I did everything on time and well, like you're supposed to, and that I expect all students to be just like me, which is completely untrue! I mean, I would like them to be the kind of student I was, but I know that's highly ambitious. And then he mentions that I re-grade his essays, saying that's micro-managing or something, so I tell him-"

Ginny covered her face with her hands. "Oh Merlin, please tell me you did not say that you didn't think he was smart enough." She looked through her fingers to see Hermione shifting guiltily in her seat. "Hermione, no. Please no."

"Well, I told him I couldn't trust him because he only got three O.W.L.s and never took the N.E.W.T.s. And I might have called his pranks juvenile."

"Shite," muttered Ginny. "I'm afraid to ask what happened next."

"Well, then he tells me he passed his N.E.W.T.s with O's and MOCKS ME because I never got more than an E in DADA. How dare he! I might have not gotten a perfect O but I hunted bloody horcruxes, which should have given me the O without taking the bloody test!"

"And you shouted at him…"

"And then I shouted and called him immature and infuriating and a complete arse. And then he tried to interrupt me and I lost it. I told him he had hurt me and he had been awful and I didn't want to hear it anymore, and he interrupts me again and he goes and tells me I'm right. WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM?"

"Don't you want to be right?"

"YES! But you don't agree with someone in the middle of a fight!"

"If you're here to tell me you're mad that you won the fight, I'm leaving and going back to bed." Ginny moved to get up, but Hermione rushed over and pushed her back down, sitting down next to her on the couch.

"No, it's not that. It's what he said afterwards." Ginny sat up a bit straighter, leaning forward, wanting to make sure she heard every word. "So he tells me that some people might think he's immature, but what he does makes him happy and he does it to make other people happy. And he says that Malfoy was right and that I'm a control freak. And then his voice got kind of deeper and he said…I'm trying to remember how he said it…umm…he said, if he was smart, he would walk away, but he can't because he's mad for me. And that he can't walk away from me because you can't walk away from someone you love."

"AND..."

"And what?"

"WHAT HAPPENED?"

"He left."

"WHAT?"

"He left. He walked out, which I found highly ironic because he said he couldn't walk away from me."

"Hermione, I swear to God, I'm going to kill you."

"ME? WHAT DID I DO? THIS IS CLEARLY HIS FAULT!"

"HIS fault! ARGH!" Ginny half-yelled, half-sighed, aggravated, and grabbed Hermione's upper arms, resisting the overwhelming urge to shake her. "Hermione," she said in a voice of forced calm, "how many men have told you they loved you?"

"Two."

"And who were they?"

"Draco and George."

"And how did Draco sound when he told you?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "He sounded happy. He sounded like he was getting a weight off his chest."

"And how did George sound? And don't tell me 'angry' or 'sad.' Seriously think about it for a minute."

 

Hermione faltered, replaying his speech in her head. She saw before her eyes his dark blue eyes filled with an unbearable pain, his whole body sagging as if he was exhausted; a wounded soldier giving up the fight. _"Sometimes I wish I wasn't. It would make things so much easier. I wish I could walk away. But I can't, and I'm sorry."_ Her eyes filled with tears as she saw him in front of her eyes. "Tormented," she said finally, her voice shaky. "Tortured."

 

"That's because he's loved you for a long time. He's loved you for longer than Malfoy had."

"What?" Hermione's jaw dropped.

"You two are so clueless, it's ridiculous. He didn't even know, but he came over here, ready to kill Malfoy for basically dumping you twice, and he finally realized."

"Then why didn't he say something?"

"Do you love him?"

Hermione faltered. "What?"

"Do. You. Love. Him?" Ginny looked seriously at Hermione, who stared back, her eyes wide and scared.

"No. I mean, he's wonderful, and handsome, and I love spending time with him, and we rarely fight besides last night, and he's always there, and he always takes care of me, and he was who I wanted to see when Draco said all those things, but I don't think I'm in love with him."

"Would you give him a chance?"

"How do you mean?"

"Just that – would you give him a chance? Maybe go on a date or two and see if maybe, although you might not now, you might feel something for him later? What do you think?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip, thinking hard. Ginny could practically see the cogs turning in her head. She was surprised steam wasn't coming out of her ears.

"Errr…I think so. I think…yeah…yeah, I think I would."

"Good!" Ginny smiled. 'Finally!' she thought.

"So what do I do?"

"After you basically called him an immature idiot with no ambition?" Ginny asked sarcastically, unable to hide the small smile from her face. Hermione's face fell and she looked as though she was about to cry. Ginny immediately felt bad for having said that.

"Gin, don't make me feel worse than I already do."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. Hermione gave her a little smile before repeating her question. "Ummm…how about write him and ask if you could meet up. Not at your place or his, but somewhere neutral, like the Three Broomsticks or something. Just talk to him, be straight about it. You two know each other well enough that you should get right down and apologize for calling him all those things, and then he'll apologize to you, and then you just say that you'd like to try things and see where it goes."

"You think he'll still want to talk to me after all I said?" Ginny saw how worried Hermione looked; she looked like a little kid afraid of getting yelled at by her mommy and daddy. She smiled and gave her a big hug.

"He's crazy for you. I can bet you anything he will still talk to you." They separated, and they smiled at each other.

"Thanks Gin. I don't know what I would do without you."

"I don't know either." They both laughed and hugged again. Hermione gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"You're the best."

"Go talk to him!"

"Going!" Hermione headed to the fireplace and, in a moment, was gone.

 

As Ginny climbed back into bed, Harry woke and looked over at her sleepily. "Was I right?"

"Yup. Honestly, I should be getting paid with how much counseling I'm doing."

Harry chuckled and pulled her close. "Were we ever that bad?"

"Yes," said Ginny immediately. "But we're here now." She smiled at Harry before he pulled her closer, kissing her. "Thank Merlin," she said once they had separated. "Finally some sleep."

She had just begun to close her eyes, Harry's steady heartbeat lulling her to sleep, when the silence was shattered. "UNCLE HARRY! AUNTIE GINNY!"

They groaned. "Your turn," said Ginny, flipping onto her stomach and covering her head with the pillow.


	25. Chapter 25

George had not been able to sleep. He had walked through the frigid castle, out into the dark and icy night and through the tall gates before spinning on the spot and apparating. He landed in his living room and looked about. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but somehow it didn't feel right just sitting there in that dark and empty room, with only shafts of moonlight for company. He walked down to the store and decided to clean up and reorganize the store to pass the time. By the time the sun was rising and weak sunbeams were fighting to illuminate the store, George had almost finished manually redesigning the whole store. He was rechecking over all the packaging for the second time when he heard the click of a lock and turned to see Lee walking in.

"Whoa! What happened here?" Lee asked as he walked in, staring about.

"Bad night," George replied. They shared a look and Lee came over, patting George on the back.

"First fight?" George nodded. "Up too late again?" George nodded again. "Did you call her out on re-grading your essays?"

"Yeah," George replied quietly. "And I said I didn't blame Malfoy."

Lee grimaced and hissed, as if in pain. "Harsh. How'd she take it?" George looked at him. "Why did I even ask? Of course she took it badly. So she lost it and you lost it… Oh no. Did you tell her?" What little color was left in George's already pale and exhausted face drained away. "Shite," Lee muttered. "What'd she say?"

"She didn't."

"What do you mean, she didn't?"

"I told her and she looked at me, dumbfounded, and I left."

"You left? No comment? No running in slow motion through a field of daisies? No kiss? Nothing?"

"Nothing," repeated George, his voice hollow.

"Shite, man. That's harsh. I'm sorry, mate." He patted George on the back, who raised his eyebrows as if to say _You and me both._ As Lee walked around to see where everything had now been placed, an owl flew over and tapped on the glass. George walked over and opened the door, through which the unfamiliar brown owl fluttered, landing on the counter. George untied the package from its feet and it flew away immediately.

"Whatcha got there?" Lee called.

"Dunno," George called back. He opened the package and saw his own product, the Reusable Hangman, "Spell It or He'll Swing!" On the box was a small note on a scrap of parchment: Just bear with me. He frowned slightly, but opened the box to see the game was already prepared and, instead of a single word, a whole sentence was lined out with dashes. He set it up just as Lee was walking over.

"Someone sent you your own game?" He picked up the note and scanned it. "Huh, well, best give it a try."

After guessing a number of vowels, the board spelled - - E A - E / - E E - / - E / A - / - - - E E / - - O O - - - I - - - / A - / - E - /.

"What the hell?" Lee said, staring at the jumble of blanks and letters. After a few more tries, the hangman was missing both of his legs and one arm, but now it said, - L E A – E / M E E T / M E / A T / T - - E E / - - O O M - - T I - - - / A T / T E - /.

"Please meet me at Three Broomsticks at ten?" George asked, looking over at Lee, who was repeatedly reading the words, checking.

"Seems like it," he replied, finally looking up. "You gonna go?"

"Dunno, should I?"

"What if it's Hermione?" They looked at each other.

"You think it might be?"

Lee shrugged. "It's always worth a try." He smiled encouragingly at his friend and patted him on the back.

"Lee, what time is it?"

Lee checked his watch and his eyes widened. "It's ten to ten! I didn't know we'd been talking that long! Go! Go!"

"You got-?"

"I got it, I got it. I'll take care of everything. Just go!"

"Thanks, mate!" said George, pulling on his sweater.

"You owe me!" said Lee jokingly.

"Piss off," joked George, smiling over his shoulder as he headed out the door.

"And you as well!" laughed Lee as he waved him away.

 

He walked into the Three Broomsticks, but saw no familiar face. The place was practically a ghost town. Madame Rosmerta smiled at him. "Over there, hun," she said with a wink. George smiled at her before walking to the back room. Although he saw no one, he had a suspicion. He walked over to the booth he had first met Hermione at, and saw a familiar face.

"Hey," he said quietly. She looked up at him and smiled faintly. She was very pale with dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept a wink, and her hair was pulled back in a messy plait. She probably would say that she looked a mess, but he still thought she looked beautiful, damn her. Why did she have to be so lovely, even when completely exhausted and upset? He sat down across from her and looked down at the table, not sure what to say.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. He looked up to see her watching him, her big brown eyes filled with tears. "I'm really sorry for all I said. I was awful."

"You weren't-"

"I was! I was! I said some awful things when you were only trying to help, and I'm so sorry." She wiped away a rogue tear forcefully with the back of her hand. He smiled softly at her and grabbed her hand, squeezing it quickly. As he moved to pull his hand back, she held on tighter. His eyes shot to hers, confused. She was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, looking as if she was trying to say something, but couldn't. "Umm…I…uh…well, what you said last night…" He lowered his eyes, readying himself for her rejection. "I thought maybe…umm…gosh, this is going to sound weird…umm…I was wondering if you'd like to give it a try."

His eyes snapped up, switching their view from the whorls in the table to her nervous face. She was still biting her lip, a habit he found terribly endearing, and watching him with a nervous look on her face. This sounded too good to be true, only a couple hours after such a huge blow-up. "How do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"Umm...you said you loved me and Ginny told me you have for a while…"

George groaned and put his face in his palms. "Oh dear Merlin, you talked to Ginny?"

"Yeah, and I thought maybe…maybe…," she faltered and then said very quickly, "Maybe we could try things and see if one day I might feel something like that too."

George stared at her, blinking, still processing everything she had said at top speed. Her eyes got wider from nerves, which he hadn't thought possible, and she dropped her head, staring at the table with such intensity, he was surprised she didn't burn a hole in it. "You serious?"

"Yeah," she said quietly, still not raising her head.

"Hermione," he said, but she still would not raise her eyes. "Hermione," he said, leaning over and pulling up her chin gently. She looked at him with her big cinnamon eyes, still swimming with tears, and he smiled.

"I'd love that." She gave him a watery smile. "But you realize I get to plan the date, right? No checking over my work," he said teasingly. She chuckled.

"I think I can deal with that."


	26. Chapter 26

Hermione paced nervously around her apartment, her silver pumps clicking against the wood floor, not sure what to expect. George had told her to dress nicely, but not overly formal, so here she was, dressed in slim black jeans and a crisp white button down, the tails loosely tucked in and the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, a single silver chain peeking out from where the shirt was unbuttoned. She had no idea what to suspect and was more than a little nervous at the lack of knowledge and control she had over the situation. 'Maybe George was right,' she thoughts as she paced. 'Maybe I am a bit of a control freak.' Right as she finished her thought and her lap around the sitting room, green light bounced off the white walls as George stepped out of the emerald flames. Hermione quickly scanned what he was wearing to make sure she wasn't over or underdressed, and noticed how handsome he looked. As he stepped out of the fire and began to brush himself off, she saw he was wearing a pair of nice khaki trousers, a bright blue button-down that she knew was his favorite, and was carrying a sweater that she was sure was the exact same sweater as the one she had…umm…borrowed, but in black instead of hunter green. As he ran his fingers through his hair, she noticed it was trimmed a bit, yet still somewhat long and shaggy, the way he preferred it. He looked up and she saw his deep blue eyes scan her quickly before he walked over and gave her a hug.

"You look beautiful," he said with a smile. She smiled back, albeit a bit nervously. "So you ready?"

"For what?"

"Well, I can't tell you. That would ruin everything!" He grinned cheekily at her as she rolled her eyes, her nervousness dissolving as they fell into their normal pattern. He proffered his arm and, with an affected voice, said, "M'lady?"

She giggled, looped her arm in his, and allowed herself to be guided back towards the fire. After a generous pinch of powder and a dizzying trip, they landed in George's apartment.

"This? This is your big surprise?" she asked skeptically.

"Calm down, oh ye of little faith," he said with a grin. "We just can't apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds."

"And we couldn't have walked out of the castle?"

"Well, we could, but I don't want any of those sixth or seventh years getting cheeky and hitting on their professor now she's all dressed up."

She gave him a doubting look. "My students do not fancy me."

"Not all of them, but a good number. You think I don't walk around Hogwarts for the fun of it sometimes?"

She was too busy gaping at him to notice that, with a wink, he spun on his heel, still holding her arm securely, they disapperated.

She coughed, trying to regain her breath as she had been unprepared for the apparition. She heard him chuckle. "Payback for Valentine's Day." She gave him a dirty look, but he did not see it, as he was searching his pockets for something. She looked around the small alleyway and saw ahead of them a street sign that said Midland Road.

"Where are we?"

George gave her an exasperated look. "You are no fun whatsoever."

"Hey!" They grinned at each other.

"Well, come on then!" he said happily, and proffered his arm once again. They walked down the street and turned the corner onto Euston Road and Hermione gasped.

"Oh my god. Oh my god!"

"Good, right?" he said with a smirk. She beamed at him. As they walked forward, he dug into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out two badges with clips on them. "Put this on."

"What is it?" she said as she looked at the badge. Apparently she was Hermione Gray, a top researcher for Cambridge. She started laughing. "Hold on, let me see yours!" She moved to read it, but as it proved difficult while they were walking and it was attached to his chest, she forced him to stop so she could read it. _George Byrne, professor of Divinity, Cambridge._ She burst out laughing. "A religious studies professor? You?"

"Hey hey hey. At least I'm a professor, you lowly researcher, you." He winked at her.

"According to this, I've already got my PhD and I'm working towards my second doctorate," she said sweetly, pretending to look at her ID badge.

"What? Where does it say that?" He grabbed at her pass, but she moved it out of his range.

"Now you wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, would you?" she teased.

In the midst of their conversation, they had restarted their walk towards the British Library. They made their way through the exhibits, including the Magna Carta, a Gutenburg Bible, and the original manuscript of Lewis Carroll's _Alice's Adventures Under Ground._

"George, this is marvelous," she said happily, turning so often to look at the exhibits that she looked like a bobblehead toy. She squeezed his arm happily before going off to look at another exhibit.

 

George watched her as she went from book to book, practically pressing her nose to the glass in her childlike excitement. He noticed that he wasn't the only one watching her either. Almost every bloke in the room was watching her with different levels of interest, and George was starting to feel a bit possessive all of a sudden. Sure, she looked fantastic today, and every guy was expected to be drooling over her, but she was his. 'Well,' he thought ruefully, 'Almost.' He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see a blonde bloke, about his age, looking at him expectantly.

"Well, _hello_ Professor," said the man, his hazel eyes sparkling.

"Hello there," replied George, always the friendly one.

"Is she with you?" He gestured over to Hermione, and George nodded.

"You might want to keep watch; she's got every eye on her."

"Well, except yours, which I'm thankful for," George joked.

A slow smile crept onto the blonde's face. "No, I prefer redheads," he said, his tone flirty. He winked.

"Ha," George half-laughed, catching on, "And I prefer brunettes, but thanks for the warning. Have a great rest of your day." He heard the blonde say, "You as well," but headed quickly over to Hermione without turning back around. He moved up next to her and put his hand gently but securely on the small of her back.

He leaned forward, moving his mouth near her ear, and asked quietly, his breath making her curls dance, "You having fun?" She straightened up and beamed at him.

"Oh George, this is marvelous!" She wrapped her arms around his waist in a quick but tight hug before turning back to the book on display. Unseen by Hermione, he smirked at the dirty looks he was now getting from the men who had been eyeing her.

"We've got one more place to go. You ready?"

 

They headed down to the first floor and walked over to a room that seemed locked. A scanner barred the entrance to the door.

"George, are we supposed to be here?" she asked nervously.

"Don't worry, Hermione. After all, you are personnel." He grinned at her look of anticipation and slid his card under the scanner. The _click_ of a lock was heard, and he held the door open for her. "After you." She walked on and her jaw dropped.

The room was not as exciting or beautiful as the exhibits had been downstairs, but it was a vast room filled with hundreds of chairs and hundreds upon hundreds of books and different audio systems.

"What is this?" she said in awe.

"The restricted Reading Room specifically for Rare Books and Music." She stared at him for a moment, open-mouthed, before wrapping her arms around him and giving him a tight hug.

"This is more than perfect, George," she said into his chest. "Thank you so so so much!"

"I figured if I had one try, I better make good use of it," he said teasingly, hiding the nervousness he felt. She hugged him tighter.

"If you're always like this, you'll have lots and lots of tries," she joked. They separated and she walked around the room, fascinated. They had fun listening to the rare recordings and looking at the rare manuscripts and books found nowhere else on the planet. Before they knew it, it was a quarter to six.

"We best be off, Mione," he said. "We have reservations."

"Reservations?" she said vaguely, finally looking up from the book she was examining.

"Yes, reservations, at a restaurant. So we have to go."

"But…but…but…"

"Hermione, I promise you we'll come back. Just hold on to your badge."

"'Kay," she said, somewhat wistfully.

 

After dinner at a lovely French restaurant, they apparated back to George's apartment and flooed back to Hermione's apartment. Hermione stepped out of the flames and was setting her sweater over the back of the armchair when George stepped out.

"George, I had the best time today. Thank you so much." She smiled at him, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I'm really glad you did, Hermione. So do you think I've earned another try?" His tone was teasing, but she knew how serious he was. She could see it in the intensity of his gaze. It was like being a moth attracted to a bright light; his eyes never left hers and she couldn't pull hers away. She bit her bottom lip.

"Maybe…" she said, grinning despite the fact that she was still biting her lip, a habit she wasn't really aware of.

"And maybe we can get that 'maybe' to a 'yes'?" He stepped forward, never breaking eye contact, and bent his head down a little. She tilted her head up automatically, inwardly thanking the extra height she gained due to her heels as her eyes fluttered closed. His lips met hers, soft and sweet. She automatically moved her arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist, one hand spread securely against her mid-back. He deepened the kiss slightly, and she happily conceded. She ran her fingers through his hair as they kissed, but, much too soon for her liking, he slowed and then pulled away, resting his forehead on hers. He opened his eyes slowly and looked at her through his shaggy red hair that always seemed to fall into his eyes, smiling at her.

"So is that a 'yes'?" he asked quietly.

She looked into those deep blue eyes that had gone from cerulean to almost navy and smiled back, biting her bottom lip unconsciously. "Yeah," she said quietly.

"I'm glad to hear that," he replied, beaming as slowly let go of her and made his way towards the fire. "Well, better let you get your beauty rest; I can't be keeping you up all night. You need help grading tomorrow?"

"I'd love some help," she said quietly, having followed him to the hearth. "And I promise not to re-grade your papers."

He laughed. "Sounds good. When shall I come over?"

"Umm…noon?"

"I'll be here. Goodnight Hermione," he said with a smile. He leaned forwards and gave her a small kiss on the lips. She smiled immediately and bit her bottom lip again, feeling like a giddy schoolgirl.

"G-goodnight," she managed to get out. He winked at her before stepping into the emerald flames and spinning away. She stood staring at the fireplace, smiling to herself, her fingers lightly brushing her lips, which were still tingling.

 

George stepped out of the flames and made sure they died down before letting out a single cry, his fist punching the air.

"YES!"


	27. Chapter 27

Hermione stepped out of the emerald flames and before she even had time to call out, she heard a squeal of delight and felt something solid collide with her legs.

"Auntie Mione! Auntie Mione! Auntie Mione!"

She looked down at the beaming five year old and smiled. "Hello Teddy. Ready for a fun night?"

"Yeah!" He danced around happily, repeatedly requesting a piggyback ride. She crouched down and, once she had him securely on her back with his legs twisted around her waist, she "galloped" away, in search of Ginny. She headed up the stairs, and knocked on their bedroom door.

"Just a minute!" she heard Harry call. The door opened a second later and there Harry stood, looking dapper yet unfinished. His slim tuxedo trousers were midnight black and fit him well, and the crisp white shirt was marred only by the two stripes of black hanging from his collar with which he was wrestling. "Hey Mione! Thanks so much for doing this last minute. Andy had to go visit her sister and Molly's got a cold. Bollocks! How do you get this bloody thing to work?"

"Language!" Ginny called from the adjoining bathroom.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah," he whispered to Hermione. "Says the woman who curses like a sailor." Hermione giggled, knowing she was the only one who would understand that reference.

"Let me help with that," she said, backing up towards the bed and allowing Teddy to hop off and entertain himself by bouncing on the bed. She moved over to a frustrated Harry and swatted his hands. "Stop, stop, STOP! Let me!" She tied his bowtie quickly and he turned to the mirror, shocked.

"How did you do that?" he asked, a jealous note in his voice.

"My mom taught me when I was little. So what's this banquet for again?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Something for the Harpies. I don't know."

Right at that moment, the bathroom door opened and Ginny strode out, twirling as she stopped in front of them. She looked radiant in a navy blue mermaid evening gown that clung to her enviable shape, made her pale skin glow, and brought out the vivid color of her hair, which was in loose effortless waves that Hermione knew had taken her hours. Hermione let out a little sigh.

"FINALLY!" Harry said as he rushed towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a click.

"There are other bathrooms in this house!" Ginny shouted after him.

"Ginny, why do you have to be so beautiful?" Hermione said wistfully.

Ginny rolled her eyes, but blushed nonetheless. "Thank you Hermione, but honestly, I'm not all that great. Looking this good took me hours, which is not something I usually have. And thank you so much for coming over to babysit."

"I'm not a baby!" Teddy called while in mid-jump.

"Excuse me, Teddy-sit," corrected Ginny. They both laughed. "So," she said, her eyebrows raised expectantly. "How are things with George?"

Hermione smiled. "They're good. We've been dating for about a month now."

"So have you…"

"GINNY!"

"WHAT? I'm only asking!"

"Ginny! It's only been a month!"

"Well…"

"Not everyone is like you and Harry."

Ginny's mouth dropped open, affronted. "You know it wasn't until summer after my seventh year!"

"La la la did not just hear that la la la la," sang Hermione, covering her ears.

Ginny laughed. "You're the biggest prude! How long was it for you?"

"Over a year, you tart!"

"Prude!"

"Tart!"

They both burst into giggles as Harry walked out. "Who's a tart?" They looked at each other and laughed harder. Harry looked at them confused. "Who's a tart?"

"Your wife," choked out Hermione, who was subsequently swatted by Ginny, who was still laughing too hard to defend herself.

"Well…" said Harry, his eyebrows raised and a sly, satisfied smile on his face, apparently just fine with that accusation.

"What's a tart?" asked Teddy from the bed.

"A pastry with jam in it," replied Harry quickly, which made Ginny and Hermione laugh harder. Ginny was doubled over, clutching her stomach while Hermione had dropped to the floor, laughing so hard she was snorting.

"Come on, you nutters," said Harry, pulling his wife up before going to help Hermione.

"Oh bollocks, I have to go fix my makeup," said Ginny.

"Language!" said Harry mockingly. She sent him a rude hand gesture while walking back to the bathroom. Hermione wiped her eyes and followed Harry out of the room after Teddy had climbed back onto her back. "Umm…so there's leftovers in the icebox and bedtime is at eight. Umm…is there anything else?" He looked around nervously, checking for anything he had forgotten.

"I've got it, Harry. I have watched Teddy before."

"I know, I know, I'm just-"

"Protective, I know," said Hermione with a smile. "And you've forgotten your coat and your wand."

Harry patted his pockets before saying "Thank you!" and rushing out of the room.

After lots of hugs and kisses for Teddy and many more 'thanks' for Hermione, Ginny and Harry headed outside. The door closed with a _click_ and in a moment, Harry and Ginny had apparated away. Teddy looked at Hermione expectantly.

"So, where we gonna to go for dinner?"

She smiled at him. Little did Harry and Ginny know that any time she came over to babysit, they would go out to a different restaurant and get Teddy's favorite food, which was easy, as the boy ate everything. Then they would go do a different activity, like going to see a movie or going to a park. She knew he was a wizard, but she made sure they did all the fun muggle activities she had loved as a child.

"How does pizza sound to you?" She smiled as his eyes grew wide with excitement. "And then, maybe, a trip to your favorite store?" He beamed at her and ran to grab his coat.

 

They stepped through the front door of the Leaky Cauldron and waved to Tom and a few familiar patrons before heading out the back way into the crisp night, the window fronts of Diagon Alley sparkling different shades of red, orange, and pink as the sun set above them. Teddy began so skip as he held Hermione's hand, singing a little song to himself.

_"Weasley's, Weasley's, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Weasley's, Weasley's, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes…"_

As Hermione held open the door, Teddy skipped in, his eyes roving the store.

"UNCLE GEORGE!" he shouted, scaring the few last-minute customers. George turned, halting mid-conversation with a customer, a small kind-faced woman with frizzy graying hair, and beamed. Teddy ran over, as if propelled by jets, and threw himself into George's arms. George laughed, as did Hermione and the woman, as he flipped Teddy and hoisted him onto his shoulders. The woman smiled at him as George finished answering her question and handed her the correct box of something that was too high for her to reach. She thanked him and headed to the register, where Lee sat munching on a licorice wand and reading a Quidditch magazine.

"Tedster! My man! How are you?" George said to the boy on his shoulders, whose hair was the brightest shade of turquoise in all of his excitement. Hermione walked over and smiled at the two of them. "Hey you," said George, smiling the special smile he reserved just for her.

"Hey," she replied, smiling and biting her lip.

"I thought you were busy tonight. Are you telling me I got stood up because of a five year old?" teased George.

"George, you know you always come second to Teddy," Hermione joked. "Actually, Gin and Harry needed a sitter last minute. Andy was busy and-"

"Oh, and mum's sick. Gotcha. So, what brings you here?" He pulled Teddy off from his shoulders and set him on his feet.

"Well," said Hermione, crouching down and smiling at the little boy, who was practically quivering with excitement. "Teddy gets to pick any one thing in the store and I'll buy it for him."

"Anything?" Teddy asked, awed.

"Anything. But only one, so you've got to choose wisely."

"How long do I have?"

Hermione looked at her watch. Ginny said they would be home by ten, but Harry had told her nine. It was six now. "You have two hours, which will mean that by eight o'clock, we have to be home. And I'll let you stay up until 8:30." Teddy looked about ready to explode. He wrapped his arms around her neck and hugged her tightly.

"You're the best auntie ever," he said happily.

"Don't let Ginny hear you saying that," she said with a grin. He beamed at her before running off to go search the store. She stood up and George immediately hugged her.

"Well, this is a nice surprise," he said happily before lowering her head and kissing her softly. She stood on her tiptoes, returning the kiss happily.

"Oi! Get a room, you lot!"

George broke the kiss and looked over at Lee. "Sod off, Jordan!"

Lee laughed and flipped George a rude hand gesture. "How are you, Hermione?"

Hermione smiled at him and headed over to the counter, still holding George's hand. "I'm good. And you?"

"Oh he's fine," said George, a telling smile on his face. "He's been with a new bird each night this week."

"Seriously?" asked Hermione, hoisting herself up onto the counter and crossing her legs, George sitting down next to her, his long legs hanging off the edge.

"I appreciate the effort, mate, but no," he replied to George. "It's only been three girls, and I've only gone out four nights so far."

"Yeah, and this is the fifth night of the week," muttered George.

"Well," said Lee smugly, stretching and folding his hands behind his head. "You can't blame me for having more game than you."

"Oi! I am in a relationship, thank you!" argued back George, pointing at Hermione, who was laughing.

"Yeah, but look how long that took you."

"Oh, piss off."

"Love you too," replied Lee, his voice high and girlish.

 

Teddy had searched the store from top to bottom and had finally selected a special powder that turned into spiders when sprinkled. Apparently, George had been teaching him that Percy and Ron were the best people to test things out on. Unfortunately, it was time to go, and George and Hermione, with Teddy riding on George's back, made their way up to George's apartment to floo back. They walked in and George crouched down to let Teddy off.

"Go to the loo before you head home, alright squirt?"

"'Kay!" replied Teddy happily, hurrying off to the bathroom and closing the bathroom door a moment later.

"Good, now I have a moment to give you a proper goodbye," said George, grinning at Hermione.

"Oh, well if you must," she said, making her voice reluctant. He chuckled and moved forward, wrapping his arms around her waist. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, immediately going up onto her toes. Their lips met, soft and familiar, and the kiss deepened as he moved one arm and entwined his fingers in her curls. He pulled her closer and she ran her fingers through his shaggy hair, and just as he ran his tongue along her lips, they heard, "GEORGE! THERE'S NO MORE TISSUE!" They broke apart, George sighing and Hermione chuckling.

"I'M COMING!" George called. He looked over at Hermione, exasperated. "That kid sure has a way with timing." She laughed as he let her go, rather reluctantly, and headed towards the loo.

 

Hermione walked through the castle, having been unable to sleep. After saying another quick goodbye to George, she and Teddy had headed over to Grimmauld Place. She had gotten Teddy washed up, in pajamas, and in bed all before Harry and Ginny had shown up at nine. After hearing about how lovely the evening was from Ginny and how exhaustingly boring it was from Harry, she had flooed home. She had gotten ready for bed, but could not fall asleep. So here she was, patrolling the corridors in her slippers, flannel pajama bottoms, a large shirt of her father's, and George sweater, her hair pulled back into a messy plait. She was just in the midst of walking past an adjacent hallway when she heard a familiar laugh. She looked around, but saw no one. More than a little spooked, she put her hand in her pocket, holding onto her wand as she walked down the hallway, straining her ears. There is was again, from somewhere up ahead. She pressed her ear to every door she passed, as the hallway was empty. Finally, at the last door, she heard something. It sounded like two people, as she heard occasional murmurs and chuckles interspersed between periods of silence. Thinking it was two students, out too late and stealing away in an empty classroom, she opened the door. Her wand's beam did not fall upon two students, however.

"Hermione!"

Hermione's eyes widened. In front of her was Luna, sitting on a desk, her hair more out of place than usual and her cheeks flushed, her arms wrapped around Neville, leaning up against the desk with his arms wrapped around her waist, his hair was sticking up as if someone had been running their fingers through it.

"Uhh…wha…" Hermione babbled, taken aback by the scene in front of her. She had obviously walked into the middle of a snogging session.

"Hi Hermione!" said Luna happily, smiling over at the intruding professor as if she and Neville had simply been holding a civil conversation.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-, I just heard-, wha-, when did this happen?" said Hermione, stumbling over her words.

"Oh, Neville asked me out New Year's and we've been dating since then," replied Luna happily, her arms still wrapped around Neville's neck, one hand still playing with his hair. Neville simply blushed a deeper shade of fuchsia.

"Oh," replied Hermione, still a little taken aback at her lack of knowledge about this new development. "Well good for you two! Umm…I'll leave you two to…you know…what you were doing…so, umm, yeah. Night!" She saw Luna smile at her and wave before she hurried out, closing the door quickly behind her.

"Professor?"

"AHH!" Hermione shouted, taken by surprise. She turned to see Chloe Galligan, a sixth year and Hufflepuff prefect, whose brown eyes were wide with shock.

"I'm so sorry professor," she said hurriedly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, no problem, Miss Galligan. But please, don't go in that room."

"Why?"

"Th-There's a staff meeting in there. Just don't go in." And with that she hurried back to her quarters. No midnight jaunt around the castle was worth the heart failure she seemed to have developed in the past five minutes.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you don't get confused: mid-March was the first date, so last chapter was mid-April.

MAY

George yawned and put down the parchment he had been holding. He stretched, his arms colliding with Hermione's, making her drop the essay she had been in the middle of reading.

"Hey!" She looked reproachfully down at him, but he simply smiled sweetly at her. It was about ten in the evening and he was helping her grade essays again. It was extremely comfortable, sitting here stretched across the couch, his head in her lap, her fingers running through his hair as she read her essays. He sat up, and the essay he had been reading slipped off his lap and onto the floor. Hermione had no reaction, as she was too busy reading the essay in front of her, worrying her bottom lip as she twirled one of her muggle pens in her fingers.

"Hermione." No reaction. "Hermione?"

"Shh! Hold on."

He waited thirty seconds, counting them out in his head before speaking again. "Hermione?"

"What?" she snapped, finally looking up from her essay, her tired eyes giving him a sharp look from behind her glasses.

"D'you want some tea?" Her expression softened and she nodded her head. She went back to her reading, while George got up from the sofa, stretching his legs as he did so. It was only two weeks until final exams and, no matter how tired George was, Hermione was twice that and more. You add on stress, and Hermione was a walking volcano, ready to erupt into tears of exhaustion at any moment. Luckily, George knew how to deal with it. He headed to the little kitchenette Hermione had in her quarters and tapped the kettle with his wand. Steam started pouring out of the whistling kettle as he pulled out two mugs and two teabags. After filling the tea, he pulled a small vial from his pocket. He poured the contents into Hermione's mug, making the tea look like it was mixed with milk, just like she liked it. He headed over to the couch and handed her the mug.

"Thanks George," she said, smiling wearily at him as he sat down next to her.

"But of course," he said, smiling as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. She sipped her tea and went back to reading her essay. He continued grading, but kept sneaking glances over at her. He knew she drank more quickly when she was distracted, and was counting on her finishing her tea quickly. Not two minutes later, she drained the cup and set it down, freeing her other hand to mark the grade on the essay. She yawned widely. "Come on," he said, pulling her up from the couch.

"But I have to, to, to-." She yawned widely, her jaw cracking.

"You need to get to bed, Mione."

"I'm fine; I'm not sleepy."

"Well, you will be in a second."

"Why?"

"Dreamless Sleep Potion. You need your rest."

She tried to glare at him, but her eyelids kept drooping. "George, that's not fair to-" She made to take a step forward, but collapsed, asleep before her knees had even buckled. George lunged forward and caught her before she hit the ground. He struggled to stand up, as his leg was in an awkward position.

"Oh Merlin, dead weight," he mumbled as he hoisted her up into his arms, bridal style, and carried her into her room. He set her down in her bed and tucked her in, brushing a stray curl from her face before leaving, shutting the door quietly behind him. He headed back to the couch and continued grading her essays.

 

JUNE

It was the day of the Transfiguration finals. Hermione paced the perimeter of the staff room, unable to sit still.

"Hermione, they'll do fine. You need to calm down," said Neville reassuringly from one of the many comfortable armchairs.

Luna spoke up from her perch by the window where she had been watching the Giant Squid swim lazily about the surface of the lake. "It's probably the sweerses floating around. The Great Hall was full of them this morning. One of the students' probably latched onto you and now you're feeling that student's stress."

"Ah. Well, at least there's a logical explanation," replied Hermione dryly. Neville chuckled.

 

George was walking casually down a sixth floor corridor, humming happily to himself, his ears straining for a far-off sound.

"What are you doing here?" said an unpleasantly familiar voice. George looked over to see Filch glaring at him, his ugly, rail-thin cat winding between his legs.

"Walking. I am allowed to visit my alma mater, am I not?"

"I know you. You're up to no good," croaked the forever-grumpy caretaker.

"Filch, you always know how to see the silver lining." He shot the suspicious man a grin that was not returned and continued on his way.

_BOOM!_

The sound of the explosion, exactly two floors below and the subsequent shrieks and screams of students echoed through the castle. George's mouth twisted into a satisfied grin as he walked away slowly, continuing his path down the hall.

 

JULY

George wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist as they walked towards the pub. They were supposed to be meeting Harry and Ginny here, but they were going to be a few minutes late, as they had to drop Teddy off with Molly. This didn't bother George, who had figured they had some time to lie about before they had to leave, but lost when faced with the argument of his ever-on-time girlfriend.

_"They're going to be late anyways, so what's the point of us leaving early just to sit about?"_

_"But what if they aren't late? Then we'll seem rude."_

_"But they already said they're going to be late!"_

_"Well, I don't like being late!"_

_"You'd rather sit around waiting for them than meet them at the same time?"_

_"Yes."_

_George sighed. "Fine," he conceded._

They headed in and saw that the pub was already pretty full and some people were already staggering around drunk, despite the fact that it was only eight at night. Hermione headed up to the bar but George headed over to the loo. After relieving himself and washing up, which couldn't have taken more than three minutes, he walked out and scanned the room, looking for Hermione. His eyes finally landed on her at the bar. She was wearing a raspberry top that draped in the front, flattering her shape without being extremely tight or low-cut, and a simple black pencil skirt with the silver heels she loved so much. Her hair was in a clip that held her hair back in a ponytail, her curls draping over her shoulder like the marble statues of Greek goddesses you would see in a museum.

He started walking towards her but froze when he saw the woman she was talking to. It wasn't how she looked that stopped him in his tracks, although she was stunningly beautiful. It wasn't her long, wavy blonde hair that looked like spun gold or her amazingly toned body, which was flattered by the tight yet simple black dress she was wearing that showed off her lean arms, her perfect and impossibly long legs, and her swan-like neck. No, it was the way she was acting. She was closer than most women would stand when talking to a stranger, and she was smiling with her perfectly straight and brilliantly white teeth at everything Hermione said. She kept touching Hermione's arms or side with feather-light touches and kept such strong eye contact that he was surprised Hermione hadn't yet melted from the heat of her gaze.

Two voices battled within George's head

_Whoa. That's hot._

_Hey! That's my girl! Back off!_

He shook his head, trying to clear it of the warring opinions, and decided on the spot what to do. He hitched a smile onto his face and walked over to Hermione. Putting his hand on her lower back and spinning her around, he kissed her as he had never kissed anyone before. It was the kind of kiss that made your toes curl, made you see stars, made you hear the hallelujah chorus, made you melt into a puddle of happiness on the floor. He kissed her, holding her against him, his hand possessively on the back of her neck and the small of her back. He broke the kiss, but gave her a quick peck on the lips before moving away. He felt Hermione grab at his arm and he saw that, despite her best efforts to hide it, her knees had given way. He held her hip, his arm slung around her waist, surreptitiously holding her up, and turned to the stunning blonde.

"Hey love, who's your friend?"

The gorgeous lesbian gave him a look that scorches before turning to Hermione, her whole face shifting fluidly to the smile she had been gracing Hermione with before. "It was wonderful talking to you. Have a wonderful night."

"You too!" said Hermione happily at her new friend. She looked back at the bar, missing the scathing look the blonde gave George, looking him up and down before curling her lip at him and, without a word, stalking away. George smiled smugly to himself.

_Lesbian: 0, George: 1._

 

AUGUST

The whole family was at the shore for the day. Harry, George, Ron, and Bill were playing a game of American football, as playing regular football was a bit of a hazard with all the flying sand. Under Molly's supervision, Teddy and Victoire were making dribble castles, taking the wet sand and letting it drip into different patterns, starting over when the waves washed away their artwork. Fleur was rubbing suntan lotion onto her pale skin while Ginny lay next to her on a beach towel, half-asleep in the summer sun.

"You know that can kill you," said Hermione from her spot under shade of an umbrella. She had been swimming earlier and was now stretched out on a large towel, reading one of her favorite muggle books.

"Mmmhmmm…that's nice," mumbled Ginny vaguely.

"You know, everyone ees zaying zat pale skeen ees een for thees upcoming season," said Fleur, rubbing a second coat of lotion onto her already white skin.

Ginny poked her head up. "Bollocks." She mumbled something and Hermione's umbrella shot over to shade Ginny.

"Hey!"

"You heard what she said; it can kill you."

"I said that."

"Tough. Get your own umbrella." Ginny smiled cheekily at Hermione before resting her head again on her arms and closing her eyes. Hermione grumbled to herself before duplicating the umbrella and positioning it just as the original had been. She was reading probably for another ten minutes when the boys headed their way. Ron, unsurprisingly, headed immediately for the cooler, throwing the others cold drinks before grabbing himself a drink and a snack. Harry headed down to see Teddy as Bill pulled Fleur to her feet, despite fussing on her end. The couple headed down to the water and Ron snagged her spot next to Ginny under the umbrella, promptly falling asleep next to his already-dozing sister. George threw himself down next to his girlfriend, shaking his head like a dog and laughing at her scrunched face as she avoided the flying sand and water.

"Eww! Get! Get away, you ruffian!" she laughed. He tackled her as she tried to wiggle away, and pulled her towards him, pulling her in for a kiss. She smiled into the kiss, kissing him back sweetly before pushing him away, a grin on her face.

"Ruffian – that's a new one," he said as he lay on his stomach, resting his chin in his palms, grinning at her.

"Yes! You screwed up the towel."

"Oh stop your whinging."

"Get up and help me fix this," she ordered, standing up and heading to one end of the towel.

"Yes ma'am," he joked, helping her straighten the towel. Hermione sat back down and George flopped down next to her, resting his head in her lap. She immediately began to play with his hair, as was her habit.

If anyone had walked past, knowing the couple or not, they would have thought they had been together forever. The ease with which they interacted was easily seen, but it was even more evident when they were silent, simply living and breathing side by side. As she played with his hair, she read the passages she knew so well from her favorite Shakespeare play. She smiled at Katherine's wit and Petruchio's humor, seeing a bit of herself and George in the characters. She smiled down at George, who was sleeping, his strong, angular features softened somewhat in sleep, his fingers woven together and resting on his slowly rising and falling chest.

"It's a good thing you're asleep," she whispered so only George could hear her, not that that was important, seeing as he was asleep, "because I don't know if I'm brave enough yet to tell you this while you're awake, but I love you, George Weasley." She smiled softly at his slowly rising and falling chest, and at his face, which was smiling, even in sleep. She had just gone back to reading her book when she heard a familiar, warm voice whisper back, "I love you too, Hermione."


	29. Chapter 29

Hermione was sitting at one of the outside tables at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, slowly eating her cinnamon ice cream with crushed toffee and listening as Ginny happily gossiped about the new girl for the Harpies, her eggnog ice cream with a raspberry swirl melting away in the summer sun.

"So how are things with you and George?"

Hermione sighed. "He's marvelous. He's a gentleman, he's kind, he's funny, he's a gentleman, I just adore him…he's a gentleman." She looked up from her ice cream to see Ginny licking her spoon happily, her eyes glazed over. Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "You're not even listening to me."

"Yes, yes I am! He's a gentleman."

"Yes. Yes, he is that," replied Hermione, her tone one of suppressed frustration.

"What? What is this? What's going on?"

"He's too much of a gentleman!" Hermione looked at Ginny desperately, who just looked at her blankly.

"Too much of a…oh, OH!" exclaimed Ginny, finally catching on. "Oh, so you want-" Hermione nodded. "And he won't-" Hermione shook her head. "Because-"

"Gentleman," Hermione replied dejectedly.

"Gentleman," repeated Ginny, nodding her head while mulling things over. "Well, let's fix this. Let's write a list," she said happily, digging through her purse to find parchment and a quill.

"A list?" asked Hermione, somewhat skeptical.

"Yes," replied Ginny determinedly, dipping her quill in the ink and readying the parchment. "So, how to seduce George. What an odd topic for me to be helping you on. I suppose it's repayment; after all, Harry is like a brother to you. Hmmm…so….well, first off, you want this to be in your control, so it would have to be at your place. So that means cleaning up your apartment and readying it for a date. Next, you have to sexy yourself up."

"Excuse?" Hermione said, laughing.

"Sexy yourself up. You know, wear a tight, revealing outfit, make your hair and makeup all lovely and sultry. Sexy yourself up."

"I don't think I own anything tight. I tend to not prefer feeling like a sausage."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Fine, then we'll go shopping after this."

"Ginny-"

"Hey, you want help, you listen to me."

Hermione sighed, knowing Ginny was completely right. "Continue."

"Alright, so cleaned up house, sexied up you…Ooh, cook him his favorite meal. Yeah, and wear nice lingerie. You do own that, don't you?" She gave Hermione a doubting look.

"I have been in a relationship before."

Ginny raised her hands, proclaiming her innocence. "Jus' checking. Alright. So here you go." With a proud smile, she handed Hermione the list.

_Seducing George: A List for Sexually-Frustrated Hermione._

_1) At Hermione's house._

_2) Clean house (bed)_

_3) Sexify_

_4) Favorite meal_

_4) Nice lingerie_

"What that title truly necessary, Ginny?" she said, looking up from the impossibly short list. Ginny just grinned cheekily at her and pulled her up from the table, ushering her out into the main street.

"C'mon, let's go get you something to wear."

 

Hermione got back to her apartment around two in the afternoon, and looked around. Her brow wrinkled as she thought of all the ridiculous preparation that would go into one night. She looked down at the open garment bag and bit her lip nervously as she surveyed the cerulean bandage dress.

"What have I gotten myself into?" She looked up and into the mirror that hung above her bed and in that moment, she made a major decision. "Screw it, it's tonight or never."

 

George was working hard in the store, which was packed to the bursting with customers. It always was during the summer, as the students had ample amounts of time to while away, looking at all the new products and planning their newest pranks. It was six when he finally closed up, all alone as Lee had headed home early to ready himself for a date with his newest conquest, a Greek bird named Alastrina. He yawned and stretched, checking to make sure everything was fine before heading up to his apartment. As he walked up the stairs, a delicious smell wafted through the air. Confused, he headed to the door and opened it.

"What is that- phwuh." His speech had been cut off by every coherent thought flying out of his brain at exactly the same moment. There, in front of him, on his small dining room table, were jacket potatoes and a Yorkshire pudding. And to complete this already delectable picture, his girlfriend, dressed as he had never seen her before, was setting a Sunday roast onto the center of the table. Once his eyes had registered that this was indeed real, his eyes moved to Hermione. Her curls were calmed and spilled down her back, like never-ending waves of molten chocolate, while her body, Oh Merlin, her body, was sheathed in a very tight blue dress that ended just above her knees and was cut lower than anything else she owned.

_Good Godric, this is like something out of a dream. A naughty dream, but a dream nonetheless. Oh dear Merlin. Okay, okay, eyes up. Eyes at her face._

"Hey love. Well, this is a fantastic surprise. And you look simply ravishing." He headed over and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. "What brought this about?" he asked, sitting as Hermione gestured for him to do so.

"Just wanted to do something special," she said with a smile. But it wasn't a normal smile. There was something behind that smile and he couldn't figure out what it was.

"Well, it's lovely. Thank you so much, love."

"You're very welcome." There it was! There was that mysterious smile again! He watched her curiously as she served him food. The dress hiked up a tad as she leaned over to get the pudding, and the way she was bending, he could see right down her top to… _wait, Hermione owned a lacy bra?_ He gulped and his eyes snapped up just in time. She turned and deposited the plate in front of him. _Dear Merlin, why did she keep bending like that? It was hard enough trying to keep his cool without the constant views of her quite generous cleavage. No! No! Be a gentleman, George, be a gentleman._

They ate and talked about his work or the new book she was reading or her day with Ginny, picking out clothes for Teddy, but his mind wasn't completely there. It was taking a considerable amount of energy just to keep from drooling and staring at the body he knew had been there, but had never known was that amazing.

"So what do you think?"

"Huh?" He blinked, realizing he had been having a staring contest with the plate of Yorkshire pudding as he resisted the temptation to stare at her in a very un-gentlemanly way. "I'm sorry, I missed that. Could you repeat?"

She smiled at him, a slow, knowing smile that lit up her eyes. "Sure," she said slowly, as if rolling the word around on her tongue, savoring the taste before releasing it to the air. She started talking again, and this time, it took all his energy to focus on what she was saying. When they were done eating, she excused herself and headed to his bathroom. _Had she always walked that way, with her hips swaying? Has she always had that nice of a bum? George! Get a hold of yourself! That is not the right way to go about this!_ He drank two glasses of water quickly, trying to calm the inner fire that was burning despite his best efforts to prevent it. He stood up and, with a wave of his wand, the rest of the meal neatly packaged itself and zoomed into the icebox while the dishing soared to the sink and began to wash themselves. Pleased with the quick cleanup, he turned around. _What? When did she get right behind me? I didn't hear her leave the loo. Why is she smiling at me like that?  
_  
Before he knew what was happening, her lips were on his and her arms were wrapped around his neck, one hand already on the nape of his neck, her fingers toying with his hair. He kissed back, surprised but pleased. As they kissed, she pushed him backwards until he was sitting in his chair again, Hermione now sitting sideways on his lap, as one would do when riding a horse side-saddle, her ankles crossed. He held her close as she deepened the kiss – Well, if she wants to take initiative, that's fine with me – his hand straying lower and lower down her back until he rested it on her thigh. She kissed him with more fervor, more urgency, as if fearing if she didn't kiss him now, she wouldn't be able to later. He knew what he wanted, and he knew how easy it would be, but it wasn't the right thing to do. He broke the kiss, rather abruptly, and stared at her, conflicted and breathing heavily.

"Hermione, I think we should stop."

"Why?" Her voice almost sounded like a whine when she said it.

"I just-, I can't pressure-," he tried to say, but his brain was currently having issues making sure air was going in and out of his lungs, let alone forming sentences that were approved of my his brain, but violently objected by his heart and his body.

"Bloody hell, this is ridiculous!" she shouted angrily, getting up and looking at him, exasperated. He watched her, completely at a loss. "I know you're forever the gentleman, but honestly? This is bloody ridiculous." His mind finally clicked into place as he saw her in front of him, her cheeks flushed, her hair mussed, her dressed hiked up to halfway up her thighs from having gotten up quickly from sitting, and her lips swollen from the intensity of their kissing.

"Wait," he said while getting up, feeling incredibly slow. "Are you upset that we haven't-"

"YES!" she shouted. "And I have tried, and I have tried, and I appreciate you being so respectful, but this is getting-"

He cut her off as he pulled her to him roughly and kissed her hard. They broke apart and, a seductive grin spreading across his face, George replied quietly, "Hermione, all you had to was ask." And with that, he kissed her as he had that night at the pub, finally letting his heart take over and forcing his brain into the backseat.


	30. Chapter 30

Hermione woke as a ray of sunshine fell through the window and onto her face. She blinked, her eyes trying to adjust to the sudden brightness. George's head was on the next pillow, but one arm was wrapped around her and their legs were somewhat tangled together, the bedclothes rumpled beyond repair. She frowned as she ran her tongue over her teeth. Hermione hated morning breath. She moved extremely carefully, slowly extracting her tangled limbs from George's, and was thankful he was a solid sleeper. As she carefully got off the bed, she looked around the room. It was a complete mess. Although neat when it came to his shop, George was extremely messy when it came to his house, and now, on top of his mess, there were clothes everywhere. She searched quickly, but could not find anything but her knickers. She pulled them on and continued looking for her clothes, but to no avail. She saw one of George's button-downs, newly washed and folded into a little square on the top of his dresser. She grabbed it, pulled it on, and crept out to the bathroom.

 

Ginny needed to talk to George about Teddy's upcoming sixth birthday. He had decided he wanted a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes party, and Ginny had no idea what that should entail without something in the house being blown up. She looked at her watch. It was nine in the morning. George rarely slept late, so he should be up by now. She headed to her room, pulled on some trainers, and headed downstairs to Teddy's room. She pushed open the door and saw Harry sitting in the large armchair that used to be rocking chair they had used when he was still a baby. Teddy was sitting on his lap, his eyes alight with curiosity as Harry read him his favorite book – _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. It was Hermione's copy that was given to her by Dumbledore, which she had given to Teddy on his second birthday.

"Read Babbity Rabbit!" he demanded happily.

"I just finished reading it a few minutes ago," reasoned Harry.

"But it's my favorite!" pleaded Teddy.

Harry sighed and was turning the pages, heading back to the story of Babbity Rabbit, when he saw his wife in the doorway, watching them lovingly. "Hey love, what's up?"

"I just wanted to let you know I'm going to head over to George's to find out about the birthday."

"MY BIRTHDAY?" Teddy's eyes were bright, a joyful and expectant look on his face.

"Yes, you're birthday. So I'm going to go talk to him, but you're going to stay here with Harry because I don't want you to know what we're going to do yet."

"Go give her a hug before she leaves," whispered Harry. Teddy wiggled off Harry's lap and ran to Ginny, who crouched down and gave him a big hug and a kiss.

"Okay, I'm off," she said, ruffling Teddy's hair and pushing his back towards Harry. She headed to the kitchen and threw powder into the flames and stepped through with a shout of "George's Apartment!"

 

George was still asleep, so Hermione headed to his kitchen to make herself some tea and, when he woke up, she's make some breakfast for them. She was just turning pouring the boiling water onto her teabag when she heard someone floo in. Turning around quickly, she was face to face with a surprised looking Ginny.

"Oh my god," she said, as if pleasantly surprised to see her here. "Oh. Oh my god," she said slowly, finally registering what Hermione was wearing – knickers and George's shirt, her hair thoroughly mussed.

"Gin-" Hermione started, not really knowing how she was going to finish this statement. Was she going to explain? Apologize? Celebrate? She was sort of frozen, completely unsure of how to proceed, which was fine, as Ginny cut her off.

"OH! MY! GOD! OH MY GOD!" she said, her jaw falling open. "You and he-, last night-, OH MY GOD!"

"I just-" began Hermione. Right at that moment, as if Hermione wasn't already unsure of how to smooth over this situation, George walked out of his room, running his fingers through his hair, completely nude. "Oh my god," said a mortified Hermione, blushing furiously.

Ginny glanced over at him, completely unperturbed by his nudity, before turning back to her best friend. "Oh my god," she said, a smug smile on her face. "So last night? And you two-?" She looked at Hermione, but got no reaction, as her forehead was resting in her palm, bright red and thoroughly wrong-footed. She looked over at George the same time Hermione looked up, hoping George wouldn't make this more awkward that it already was.

 _Twice_ he mouthed as he held up two fingers, smirking as he headed to the loo. Ginny's eyes lit up, taking much more humor from this situation than Hermione thought was fair. Hermione blushed even more, her face and neck bordering on crimson.

"Oh my god!" squealed Ginny gleefully, an evil grin on her face. Hermione was determinedly staring at the ceiling, completely mortified and afraid to speak and put her foot in her mouth. George walked out of the loo and walked out towards them, as if planning on having a conversation completely starkers.

"Oh dear Merlin, could you please go put some clothes on? This is awkward enough as it is," Hermione pleaded, her face in her hands, furiously trying to stop blushing. He smirked at her before walking back to his room and reappearing a few minutes later with some shorts on.

"Growing up with six brothers, nothing fazes me," said Ginny, obviously taking enjoyment from Hermione's embarrassment. George winked at his sister, who chuckled. "Well, I'll let you two to get back to your morning. How 'bout you two come over for dinner? Hermione can distract Teddy while I talk to you about his birthday."

"Sounds great," replied George with a grin. "See you then."

"Please don't mention this to the family," pleaded Hermione.

"Oh, of course not!" said Ginny, an innocent look on her face.

"You're going to tell Harry, aren't you?" she asked in a defeated tone, already knowing the answer.

"Oh yeah!" And with a wink and a surge of flames, Ginny was gone.

Hermione sank into a chair at the dining table, burying her face in her hands. George came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, massaging them gently.

"That was utterly embarrassing," said Hermione into her palms. George leaned down and kissed her neck.

"Well, I think it was worth it," he said slyly. She whipped her head around and gave her a look that tried to be disapproving, but she grinned despite herself. He whispered, his mouth near her ear, his breath tickling his face, "I've heard third time's a charm." Her eyes widen and she looked at him, somewhat shocked.

"George!"

"What?" he said, grinning at her, "Well, I figure it's a good option since all of your clothes are missing."

"How do you know all my-? YOU!" He laughed and ran as she chased after him. "You hid them? You git! Where did you-AAAHHH!" George had stopped short before she had time to stop and sidestepped her, grabbing her from around the middle. Laughing, he picked her up and held her in a fireman's lift, Hermione helpless to get down as he held her legs in his strong arms. She pounded his back with her fists, trying to yell at him through her laughter. A broad smile on his face, he carried her back to his bedroom.

_Victory._

 

Ginny ran up the stairs as fast as she could, bursting into Teddy's room, but Harry was not there. Thankful she hadn't been too loud, she quietly stepped out, not wanting to further disturb the sleeping child. She ran up the stairs and found Harry in his office, reading the Quibbler. He looked up as she burst in, her cheeks flushed and a huge grin on her face.

"You'll never believe what just happened!"


	31. Chapter 31

Hermione looked around her relatively empty apartment and sighed, scanning for anything she had missed, but unsurprisingly found nothing. Sometimes her perfectionism frustrated her. She always did things right the first time, but then was impossibly frustrated when she couldn't improve or fix mistakes, because there were none. In this case, she had backed her belongings perfectly and was left staring around her stripped apartment, searching in vain for something she had forgotten. She looked down at herself and wrinkled her nose. After packing and cleaning all day, she looked a mess. Her hair was out of control and held back with three clips, her face was smudged with dirt and dust, and her clothes were dirty and uncomfortable. She headed to the shower, peeling off her clothes as she went – _I'll pick them up after my shower_ – and turned the dials, smiling peacefully as steam started to fill the small bathroom. With a click, she closed the bathroom door, took the clips out of the bird's nest she was currently calling 'hair,' and stepped carefully into the clawfoot tub, sighing happily as the warm water traveled down her body. Stepping out of the shower ten minutes later, squeaky clean and feeling refreshed, she set to cleaning herself up for tonight.

She looked around the apartment another time, a little sad, as she always was when this time came around, that she was leaving the beloved apartment she had shared with Ginny for years. She knew she was going to have another fun year at Hogwarts, but, for some reason, she always felt a bit nervous going back. Just as she sat on the couch, emerald flames sprang into being and George stepped out from beneath the heart, ducking due to the comparably diminutive size of her fireplace.

"Hey!" said Hermione happily, standing up, thankful to have a distraction from her pointless worrying.

"How you been?" He strode over and gave her a soft kiss on the lips, laughing when Hermione tried to lengthen it at the same time he had moved to end it, leaving her leaning forward, kissing the air. Her eyes snapped open and her face immediately rearranged to a look of annoyance. He gave her a look that clearly said, _Honestly? I know you're not actually mad._ She rolled her eyes and smiled at him.

"I'm alright."

His kaleidoscopic blue eyes searched her face for a moment. "You're nervous about going back, aren't you?"

"How do you do that?" she asked incredulously. He chuckled.

"I was always the more observant twin," he replied with a wink. She smiled before looking around again.

"It always feels so odd, leaving for so long and coming back for so little time." Her eyes found his again, and she saw he suddenly looked a little anxious. "What? What is it?"

"Well, I, umm, I was wondering, oh bollocks-"

"George, are you nervous?"

"NO!"

"You are! Oh my gosh, that is so cute! You haven't been nervous around me since our first date!"

"I was not nervous-"

"You so were."

"I was not, but that's not the point. I was wondering, and you don't have to say yes, it's completely up to you and I'm fine with whatever you choose-"

"It'd be helpful if you told me what I had to choose."

He gave her an aggravated look. Hermione knew he didn't like when she interrupted when he was nervous, but she couldn't help it. He was adorable when he was nervous. Plus, he interrupted her constantly.

"I wanted to know if maybe you wanted to…umm…move in with me instead of keeping this apartment when you only live in it for like two, three months." He said all of this very quickly, his eyes fixed on something on the ground. He raised his head and looked at her, seemingly filled with trepidation. Hermione gasped and immediately covered her mouth with her hand, completely shocked.

"I mean if you don't want to-, it's not a big deal if you don't-, I just-, you know, I just thought maybe-"

The flow of nervous words was stemmed as Hermione threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. Taken aback, he caught his footing and hugged her back. "So it that a yes?"

"Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes!" she said happily, burying her face into his chest. He beamed and hugged her tightly.

"Oh good. I was afraid you were going to turn me down for some excuse like 'But this place holds so many memories,' or something." She looked up at him and grinned.

"This place does hold so many memories, but I still have those memories. I don't need an apartment to remember the time Ginny and I-" She started laughing. "I'm going to stop there. Girl story." He raised an eyebrow, but she said nothing, instead turning and stepping out of his arms, heading to her room to grab her bag. He followed her and leaned on the doorframe, surveying the room with a little smirk as she collected everything she needed.

"If these walls could talk…" She looked around and he winked at her, making her blush bright pink.

"I'd really rather they not," she mumbled, ducking her head and going back to gathering her things, although she did have a little smile tugging on the corner of her lips.

"You ready?"

She looked around and looked at the bag and neatly wrapped package in her hands. "I suppose so." He held her arm and they spun into oblivion.

 

They landed on the front steps of Grimmauld Place in front of the ever-imposing wooden door. He opened it and their ears were assaulted with noise as they headed in. There were children running around and screaming and grownups walking around and laughing. They headed in, George nimbly avoiding a collision with a six year old hurtling down the entryway, and walked to the brightly-lit sitting room, where the adults were collected, some talking to old school chums, many of whom hadn't seen each other in years, some worrying over their children, some eating the lovely meal set out buffet-style. He lost Hermione as she headed over to say hello to Dean and Seamus, who each checked her out while the other hugged her. George took a deep breath, trying to remember that he did, indeed, like these two and did not, in all actuality, want to beat their faces in. He was not the jealous type. Not at all. He tore his eyes away, knowing she would be fine, and headed over to say hello to his family, which was scattered about the room.

"Hello Mum," he said, sneaking up behind his mother, who was talking to Kingsley Shaklebolt. She started and turned around, her face breaking into a bright smile.

"Oh George! You gave me a fright!" She wrapped him in a tight hug before holding him out at arm's length and surveying him. "Merlin, I thought you boys were done growing. You seem to be taller each time I see you. Which isn't as often as it should be," she finished, giving him a stern look.

"I promise I'll come over more, Mum," he said, quailing somewhat under her stern gaze. "Minister!" he said jovially, sticking out a hand, which was grasped immediately by Kingsley.

"Hello George," he said in his slow, deep voice, "Things been holding up well?" There was a twinkle in his eye that explained exactly what he was asking about – his relatively new relationship with Hermione.

George laughed. "Quite well, thanks. And how's running the country going, Kingsley?"

Kingsley shrugged, as if to say, _Same ol', same ol'_. He turned to continue his conversation with Molly as George headed off to see the other people at the party. He soon found Harry, who was wrestling with a very excited Teddy.

"You can't open the presents yet," Harry was saying exasperatedly, struggling to keep a hold on the wiggling six year old, who was practically climbing Harry to get to the small table of presents.

"TEDSTER!" George called loudly, successfully drawing his attention away from the presents. He looked over and wiggled out of Harry's arms. George swung him into the air and caught him again, serenaded by giggles. George looked over to see Harry mouthing _thank you_ at him. George winked and walked away from the table, Teddy in his arms. "So, Tedster, how do you like your Weasley's Wizard Wheezes party so far?" Somewhere above them, they heard a _BANG_ followed by the cacophony of screams and laughter mixed with running footsteps. Teddy grinned excitedly.

"I love it! Thank you so much, Uncle George!"

"You're very welcome, monster. Have you said thank you to Lee yet?"

"Yes, I said thank you and gave him a hug and he helped me light some fireworks in the kitchen and it was lots of fun."

"What did Grandma Molly have to say about that?"

Teddy giggled. "She didn't think it was funny."

"Good boy!" said George heartily, high-fiving his apprentice in pranking.

"Where's Auntie Mione? I want to see Auntie Mione."

"She's over there, talking to Luna, but I think, if you ask really nicely and remind her that it's your birthday, she might give you a birthday kiss." The smitten six year old stared at him, his eyes wide.

"Really?"

"Really. Here, I'll set you down and you go ask her right now."

"'Kay!" He watched as Teddy ran up to Hermione. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he saw Hermione smile at him, her brows contracted somewhat in confusion. She asked Teddy something, and he turned around and pointed at George. Hermione looked over at George and raised her eyebrow at him. He winked back at her. She shook her head almost imperceptibly and then beamed as Teddy turned back around to face her. She picked Teddy up, balancing him on her hip as she talked to him. She said something which made him laugh, and then she gave him a big kiss on the cheek. He blushed bright pink, his hair turning as red as Ginny's. Hermione laughed and gave him a big hug. He wiggled a little and she set him down, running past George to go see his friends, but not before he held out a hand and high-fived George on his way past. Hermione obviously saw this because when George looked up, her arms were crossed and her eyebrow was raised, although a smile was again tugging at her lips. He flashed her a grin before heading over to talk to Lee, who was talking to Seamus and Dean.

"Hey!" they all said when he walked up before resuming their conversation. Apparently, Lee had just joined the conversation as well, as Seamus was recapping.

"I was just tellin' Dean here that I don't know what the hell happened to Hermione, but bloody hell, is she a looker now! I don't know where that body came from, 'cos it sure wasn't there when we were at school. I'd be quite alright taking that one home."

"I never fancied her at school, but I reckon I could now," Dean said with a laugh, Seamus laughing and nodding in agreement. George felt his blood start to boil and glanced at Lee, who gave him a look that said Let's do this. George nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Yeah, she is a lovely bird now, isn't she?" Lee replied. George said nothing, instead made a noncommittal noise, as if he hadn't noticed and needed to see for himself. George glanced over at Hermione, who was talking to a worried-looking Harry, as if looking her up and down, justifying what they had said.

"Yeah, she's quite lovely. Quite a minx in the sack too, I've heard." He worked hard to keep his face straight. Lee was drinking, desperately trying not to smile.

"I'll bet," said Dean.

"I'd love to find out," said Seamus with a smirk. Just then, George heard approaching footsteps from behind and knew who it must be, as both Seamus and Dean were suddenly watching avidly, their eyes roving. George felt a soft hand on his upper arm and heard Hermione say, "George, Harry asked us to check on everything upstairs. I'm about to head up to check on all the kids."

He turned to her while she had been talking, restraining himself to seem as though this was simply asking for help and her hand, still on his arm, meant nothing. He glanced once at Lee, his eyes flitting to his best friend's face quickly, seeing him restraining a smirk. "Sure, love," he said with a smile, dipping his head quickly and giving her a quick kiss on the lips. "Oh I'm sorry," he said apologetically, turning to face Dean, whose eyes were flicking hurriedly between the two of them and George's hand, which was now on the small of Hermione's back, and Seamus, who looked as though he had been stunned. "Have you guys talked to Hermione yet?"

"No, I haven't!" replied Lee, playing along. "It's great to see you, Mione. Is it true you two are finally moving in together?"

Hermione smiled, blushing slightly. "Well, I'm never at my apartment, and it's been five-"

"Six," George interrupted.

Hermione laughed. "Excuse me, six months, so… Oh gosh, what are we doing socializing, we need to check on the kids. Come on George!" She rushed off but George turned to Lee as if trying to remember something.

"Who told me my girlfriend was good in bed?" He pretended to think for a second before remembering, exaggerating his actions. "Oh yeah, it was me. Talk to you guys later." He grinned and winked at Dean and Seamus, whose jaws were hanging open, and Lee, who was smirking, before turning around and heading after his very-sought-after girlfriend, trying hard not to saunter but probably failing.


	32. Chapter 32

Hermione looked out her window to see a fierce wind blowing, shaking the trees of the Forbidden Forest. She smiled to herself as she pulled on her favorite sweater – George had finally stopped trying to get it back and simply bought another one, as it was also his favorite sweater – and checked her hair. She had been planning to leave it down but in this weather, having it held back seemed like a better idea. She braided it into a quick plait and checked her reflection again. The mirror held nothing special, just a woman in jeans, some warm boots, and her boyfriend's sweater, her hair tied back and finished with a small, forest green ribbon tied into a bow. She nodded, sufficiently satisfied. As much as she loved dressing up, being with someone for a long time and having known them for even longer took the edge off of wondering whether she was done up enough. George had seen her at her best and worst, which made all the times in between more comfortable, knowing she could be wearing a paper sack with her hair a complete bird's nest and he would still love her.

She grabbed her bag and headed to the door. She immediately flattened herself against the wall as a few students hurtled past at top speed. "NO RUNNING!" she shouted after them, already knowing they were going to ignore her. She rolled her eyes and followed the boys down to the Entrance Hall, walking out into the crisp October day. She strolled down to Hogsmeade, where kids were already milling about, running in and out of shops and talking loudly. She headed into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, her eyes roving but catching no sign of George. She instead headed to the counter, where Lee was ringing up a sixth year boy.

"Now remember, you can't use these in Professor Granger's or Professor Longbottom's classes. They both know what they are and you'll be in detention faster than you can say- Hermione!" He had looked up to see just the girl he had been talking about and flashed her a grin. "Like I said, she knows every prank in here, so don't use them on her," he said to the boy, who was looking at his professor nervously, worried she would give him detention for buying products. She laughed before smiling at the boy.

"Feel free to buy them, Mister Finster, but make sure I don't see any usage of the Snackboxes in my class."

"Yes Ma'am," he replied, giving her a quick smile before grabbing his bag and rushing out of the store.

"Honestly, Hermione," said Lee, turning to her with a grin, "You keep coming in here and we're going to lose business!" She pushed him playfully and hoisted herself up onto the back counter, her legs swinging. "He's in the back finishing up the paperwork that's due for this month. Orders have been flooding in because of Halloween approaching."

"No problem, I'll wait," she replied, looking about the store. A few minutes later, George walked out from the back room and headed to Lee, his eyes on a paper on which many notes and scribbles were written.

"Hey Lee? I think something went wrong here," he said as he walked into the space between the two counters, completely missing Hermione. Lee looked over the page, and Hermione, who had still gone unnoticed, looked over George's shoulder.

"The tally got messed up here," she said, reaching over George's shoulder and pointing. "There was an extra amount that was supposed to be added and it was subtracted instead." George jumped, not having known she was there.

"Hermione, where did you come from?" There was a beat of silence as Lee and Hermione looked at each other, not sure if he was serious or not.

"George, she's been there the whole time. I think you were too busy looking at the paper to see her."

"Oh! Well, sorry 'bout that, love." She smiled at him. "Well, I'm gonna go fix that glitch and then we'll be set to go." He bustled off to the back room once again, reappearing a few minutes later with his coat in hand. "Okay, I swear I'm ready to go now. Sorry." She rolled her eyes at him and hopped off the counter.

"Have fun, you two!" Lee called after them. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Lee, that's basically limited to dressing in drag and eating any variety of lettuce," replied George with his eyebrow raised at his best friend. Lee thought for a moment.

"Well, since saying 'Don't do anything I _would_ do' would limit you severely, let's stick with the no drag and no lettuce, mate." He winked at Hermione, who laughed. George shook his head and ushered her out of the store and towards the Three Broomsticks for lunch.

 

They walked out from lunch, laughing about some joke he had just told, when Hermione stopped short, almost making George stumble.

"What? What is it?" he asked quickly.

"He's here. Why the hell is he here? He's supposed to be in France." George's head snapped up immediately, scanning the crowds of people strolling down the street. He saw a familiar blonde head and pale face, whose features were sharper and more angular than most, at the exact moment those grey eyes found Hermione. George immediately wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist, pulling her closer to his side. She looked up at him questioningly.

"He's coming over," he said quietly.

"Shite," she muttered. "Please don't come over, please don't come over, please don't come over, please don't come ov- Draco! Hi!" He had finally ended up in front of them, a handsome smile on his face.

"Hermione, it's great to see you." He smiled warmly at her, his eyes sparkling, but as his eyes traveled from her waist, up George's arm, and to his face, which loomed a good half a foot above him, his eyes went cold. "And Weasley," he said smoothly, his eyebrows raising slightly, only the steely glint in his eyes portraying any contempt.

"France not good enough for you, Malfoy?" George replied, his voice level and polite but his gaze harsh.

"Actually," replied Draco, turning to Hermione, as if she had asked the question. "I'm here on business."

"Not in Hogsmeade specifically on a Hogsmeade weekend when the teachers would be roaming about, surely." The sarcasm was clearly evident in his voice, he knew that, but he could care less. He inconspicuously tightened his hold on Hermione. Malfoy's jawline became more pronounced as he visibly gritted his teeth. In a level voice, he replied, "Actually, I-"

"Draco! There you are! You left me in that shop back there!" A lovely woman ran up to them. She was diminutive, petite in every way. She looked like a porcelain doll, with her pale skin, her cheeks pink from the cold, her shiny black hair swinging immediately back into place in her meticulously-cut bob, her brown eyes twinkling innocently. She had a slight French accent, but sounded as though she had been speaking English for quite a while. George felt Hermione tense slightly before a bright smile came onto her face and she held out her right hand.

"Hi there! I'm Hermione. You must be Genevieve!"

In that instant, the air seemed to freeze and time seemed to slow down. As soon as the words had come out of Hermione's mouth, he knew this was a huge mistake. The girl's smile faltered and a look of confusion passed over her face.

"No, my name is Clémence," she said quietly, still trying to smile warmly. "But it's nice to meet you." Her voice shook slightly and George immediately felt an inexplicable urge to hug this girl without even knowing who she was or why this upset her. She took a deep but shaky breath and smiled kindly. "Would you excuse us for a moment?" She grabbed Malfoy's arm in a vice-like grip and dragged him a couple meters away.

"Oh god, did I say something wrong?" said Hermione worriedly. George smiled in spite of himself. It was so like Hermione to worry over a stranger, even if that stranger happened to be her ex's new girlfriend.

"No," said George slowly, watching the couple. "But I think you said something she didn't know about." He watched as Clémence seemed to asked Malfoy a question and put her hands on her hips, as if waiting for an answer. Malfoy visibly paled and said something that made the color in her cheeks rise as she seemed to grow ten feet tall with anger.

"WHAT? SHE'S MY BEST FRIEND!" Clémence shrieked, turning heads all around the High Street. Draco seemed to be trying to quiet her. "You-, you told me she was lying. You told me you never dated her!" Although she wasn't screaming it anymore, her voice floated on the wind, full of rage. "Brûle en enfer, Draco! Va coucher avec Genevieve!" In her anger, she seemed to have reverted immediately back to French. He moved to grab her hand and she pulled it away from his quickly. "Fiche moi le paix!" She ran over to Hermione, whose eyes widened, fearing she was going to be yelled at next. Instead, the girl hugged her tightly and, though very confused, Hermione hugged her back. "Thank you. Thank you. I know you didn't mean anything by it, but thank you." She kissed her on both cheeks and walked a few paces away, turning and disappearing in an instant.

"Shite!" Their eyes flicked over to Malfoy, who exclaimed this and disapperated, probably in pursuit of his angry girlfriend.

"What…just…happened?" asked Hermione haltingly, obviously extremely confused. He started laughing.

"I-, I think you just broke them up." Hermione looked at him for a moment, her brow wrinkled in confusion, and then they both burst into laughter. He led them over to a bench, wiping his eyes as she sat doubled over, snorting she was laughing so hard, which only made him laugh harder. "Let's get you home," George managed to say through his laughter. He stood up and held out his hand. She grasped it and he pulled her up forcefully so she would bump into his chest, which she did a second later. He leaned forward and kissed her. They broke apart and he chuckled as she pushed him away and started walking towards the castle without him. He jogged to catch up and slung his arm around her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his chest for a moment. It was little things like this that made George love her more and more every day. They walked up to the castle, George very thankful Hermione couldn't see the smirk he had on his face as he thought about Malfoy's face when he had seen George with Hermione. 'She's mine now, Ferret,' he thought to himself.

 

Hermione was sitting on her couch, her legs stretched out as she read over essays. She kept checking her watch, as George was supposed to come over soon and help her grade papers. 'Well,' she thought, a little grin tugging at her lips, 'we'll start with that.' She looked at her watch and sighed exasperatedly. Quarter of an hour more. As she looked back at the parchment in her hands, she heard the fire roar into life and someone step out of the flames and onto her hardwood floors.

"Hey, love. I-" She finally looked up from the essay and her words died in her throat. "Draco, what are you doing here?"


	33. Chapter 33

"Hey, love. I-" She finally looked up from the essay and her words died in her throat. "Draco, what are you doing here?"

"I had to come talk to you, Hermione," he said, his cheeks unusually flushed.

"I'm so sorry about that thing with Clémence, calling her Genevieve. I didn't know. I-" said Hermione hurriedly, thinking he was here to berate her for unintentionally chasing away his girlfriend.

"No no no, it's not about Clémence," he said as he walked towards her, raking his hand through his white blonde hair. She stood up hurriedly, not sure what was happening but figuring that whatever it was, she should be standing. "Hermione," he started, sounding weary. "This year has been miserable."

"Work giving you trouble?" asked Hermione, not really understanding why he was talking about this to her.

"No. Not being with you has," he halted, his breath catching in his throat before continuing, "well, it's been hard." Hermione felt kind of stupid. She hadn't even thought of the possibility of The Breakup being the problem.

"Oh," she said, not really sure how to reply to this. This was awkward. This whole situation was awkward. She was still standing in front of the couch facing Draco, who was standing on the other side of the table. Hermione had a wonderful and rich vocabulary, but at this moment, the only word occurring to her was "awkward."

"Hermione, I know I was a complete arse and I'm so so sorry. I've been a mess since we broke up. I thought I was fine and I tried to date around, but no one was ever right; no one was ever good enough. No one was you."

He looked at her with his silver eyes filled with pain and sorrow, liquid mercury searching for stability with any one emotion. She looked at him, looked into those eyes she used to love, and realized they didn't have the same hold over her as they used to. As she looked at him, the only thing she could think of was George pulling her close when Draco had walked over, trying to shield her from everything he had done and all the hurt he represented. She looked at him and said, her voice strong, "No, Draco. There's only one of me. And I'm done waiting. I stopped waiting for you a long time ago." He watched her for a moment, his eyes searching her face. "I'm with someone else now and I love him."

To Hermione's surprise, a laugh burst forth from Draco's lips. "Wha-, What? You can't mean Weasley."

"Yes, I do mean George," she said, her tone steely.

"Honestly? The one who dropped out of school to create a joke shop?"

"No matter what he did, he'll always be a braver man than you. A better man." Draco stiffened, his jaw clenched. "He was there when you broke my heart not one, but two times. He was there to show me how to find laughter again, how to find love."

"He's not the right man for you," said Draco, taking a step around the table, towards. She held her ground, defiant.

"And you think you are? That's a laugh. You basically dumped me twice, and have apparently been wreaking havoc on the female population in France. Do you honestly think I would take you back after what you did to me and what I saw you do to that poor girl?"

He stepped closer to her and despite her best judgment, she stayed stock still, her back straight as a rod, her arms crossed as if they were a shield. "Hermione, trust me, I-"

"Trust you?" She actually smiled. Did he honestly think after a year, she would take him back that easily? And then, before she knew what he was doing, before she was able to react, he shot forward, his hands on the sides of her face, his lips on hers, kissing her roughly. She began to struggle and just then, she heard the floo and running footsteps a minute later.

 

George stepped out of the fireplace, ready to receive a hug from his girlfriend, and instead saw Malfoy with his hands all over her, kissing her. He ran over, grabbed him by the collar, and threw him bodily across the room. Hermione dropped to the floor, shaking, her eyes wide in shock. He turned around to see Malfoy getting up, glaring furiously at him.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Malfoy? Why the hell were you kissing my girlfriend?"

Malfoy stood, raising his chin, looking at George with imperious distain. "She doesn't want you, Weasley," he said smoothly, his voice as simultaneously abhorrent and bewitching as Snape's had been. "She wants me. You were only ever the rebound. The one that happened to be conveniently there. You don't matter." George took a deep but shaky breath. In an instant, the bastard had played to every single one of George's insecurities. He looked over at Hermione, who was staring at Draco with wide eyes, a look of alarm on her face.

"Draco, how could you?" she cried. George turned to look at Malfoy, whose face was adorned with a cruel smirk and George felt as his stomach seemed to drop right out of his body. _Could he be right? Could she honestly feel that way?_ As Malfoy moved to walk towards Hermione, George went with his first reaction and punched the bastard right in the face, hitting him right on the cheekbone with such force that the skin split. Malfoy spun backwards and landed, but picked himself up, roughly wiping away the blood that had started to seep from the fresh cut on his cheek. He shot forward and with a right hook George had been unable to avoid, Malfoy's fist collided with George's eye. He felt another blow to his mouth and tasted blood as his lip split. The slimy git might have gotten in a few hits, but George knew how to fight. You didn't grow up with five brothers for nothing. With another punch, he heard the sickening _crunch_ of Malfoy's perfect pureblood nose breaking under his fist and with a few more well-placed hits, Malfoy dropped to the ground, unconscious.

He stood for a moment, breathing heavily, feeling the warm blood trickle down the side of his mouth, seemingly frozen in time. As if in slow motion, Hermione finally stood and looked over at him nervously. She hurried over to Malfoy and crouched, feeling his wrist for a pulse. George felt all his insecurities come flooding back, overwhelming him and filling him with an agony-fueled rage. As if from a long distance away, he heard Hermione say, "He's unconscious. Oh, George, are you alright?" She got up and ran to him, a look of worry on her face.

"How could you?" he asked her quietly, feeling as though someone had beaten him to a pulp from the inside out.

"What?" she asked worriedly, busy checking his lip.

"How could you let him?" George asked, his voice shaking.

Her hands dropped from his face, where she was examining the black eye that was already beginning to bloom. "George, I tried. He forced himself on me. I tried and then you came and you pulled him off. I thought it was you and then he came in started telling me he wanted me back and-"

"And you stood there and did nothing?" he asked, squeezing his eyes shut, as though in unendurable agony.

"NO! He just-, he kept talking and I told him I was happy and I was with you and-"

"And then he kissed you. And you let him." Hermione's eyes grew wide, her mouth dropping open in shock.

"NO! George, I-"

"How could you do this to me, Hermione? After all I did for you, after all the times I held you when he broke your heart, how could you do this?" He felt betrayed, he felt as though someone had just shot him through the heart. She could have stopped him; she could have said something; she could have thrown him out, but she just let him. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, swallowing hard as he tried not to break down.

"George, please-" She was crying now, trying to turn his face and force him to look at her. "George, he means nothing to me! Please! George!"

"I have to go," he whispered, his anguish lacing every word. He moved quickly, stepping out of the reach of her hands, and headed to the fire, stepping over Malfoy's unconscious form. "You should probably send him home," he said, his tone somewhat bitter.

 

"GEORGE!" She ran at him, grabbing his hand with both of hers and desperately trying to pull him away from the fire.

"Please," he whispered, looking at her, a tortured look on his face. "Let me go, Hermione." As tears poured silently down her face, her cinnamon eyes searched his face and slowly, very slowly, she let go of his hand and watched as he disappeared in a whirl of flames. She crumpled to the floor, sobbing, feeling as if someone has ripped her heart out. She desperately wanted to follow him, to beg him to listen, to understand, to forgive, but she knew he wouldn't. Not yet.


	34. Chapter 34

Hermione sobbed as she watched the flames die down and then vanish. She looked over at the unconscious form of her ex and felt rage build up within her. This was his fault. This was all his fault. What right did he have to barge back into her life and, all in the same day, take away the thing that made her the happiest. She got up slowly and stood over Malfoy, watching the blood slowly drip down the side of his cheek and pool onto her polished hardwood floor from his horribly broken nose, his split lip, and the open gash on his cheek. As she looked down at him, a ridiculous, horribly vindictive, extremely violent, and thoroughly un-Hermione-like urge to hurt him, to hit him until her hands were bruised, to kick him until she heard something crack almost overwhelmed her. She felt her leg twitch and squeezed her eyes shut. She was better than that. She would not stoop to such a level of brutality. She thought for a moment and slowly, she opened her eyes, a dangerous smile creeping across her face. She levitated him until he was standing and, supporting him with one arm so as to look like she was carrying him, and stepped into the floo.

 

George paced around his apartment. Away from Malfoy and Hermione and the situation, he was starting to calm down. With this calm, however, came the sickening sensation of realization of what had happened. He sat down on the couch and rested his face in his palms. What the hell just happened? How could everything seem to blow up in one instant? _Stop, stop. Okay, try and be reasonable about this. Okay, what do I actually know is true?_ He thought for a moment, raising his head and staring unseeingly into the space in front of him, as if focusing on a list no one else could see.

Draco showed up at her house, and she didn't invite him.

He told her he wanted her back.

He kissed her.

He told me I was simply the replacement.

Hermione ran to him first.

Well, he knew the first four to be true. Even if he hadn't heard Malfoy say those things to her, it was completely obvious was his intentions were. George thought about the last fact again.

Hermione ran to him first. To Malfoy first.

As these words swam through his mind, the scene floated in front of his eyes, as if watching a movie in slow motion. _There was Malfoy, having just fallen to the ground, unconscious and bleeding copiously. He was still standing, his split lip bleeding, his eye aching and slowly swelling, making it difficult to keep it open. He could feel the thin trail of warm blood making its way down his chin. There was Hermione, halfway between both, still on the floor from where she had crumpled, staring at him with wide eyes. Her worried eyes scanned his face, seeming to take in his injuries and analyze him. She looked over at Malfoy, and her eyes immediately shot to the blood that was starting to slowly pool next to his head from his many injuries. In one swift movement, she shot across to Draco and lifted his head. Now that George was looking back, not fully impeded my emotions and adrenaline, he saw that she was not cradling his head lovingly, but rather quickly checking for a head injury, her hands roving through his hair, her eyes checking her hands for signs of more blood. "He's unconscious. Oh, George, are you alright?" Once she had determined that there was no bleeding from the skull, she rushed over to George, not sparing Malfoy a second glance, and began checking his lip. "How could you?" he asked her. He winced as the pad of her thumb moved softly over his split bottom lip, assessing the damage. "What?" she said, not fully listening as she mumbled, half to herself, half to George. "Oh George, I can't believe you did this. This will have to be cleaned up before being healed. Thank goodness you came when you did. Oh, this looks terrible." "How could you let him?" he asked. He turned his head away from her touch as she ran her thumb lightly over his brow, checking the damage to his eye. Her hands dropped from his face and she looked at him with pleading eyes, begging him to understand what he hadn't seen._

He thought about her face as he turned to free his hand from her iron grip. _Tears were pouring down her bright red cheeks, leaving tear tracks, like an errant drop of water cutting through a still-wet watercolor of a field of poppies. They dripped off her chin, but she paid no mind and made no move to wipe them. Her whole body was tensed, using all her strength to pull him away from the hearth. Her eyes… Her eyes looked different than he had ever seen them. If it wasn't for the fact that "stormy" was generally used to describe blue or gray eyes, he would have said that's what they were. Many emotions were battling for dominance in her eyes – fear, worry, sadness, hurt, desperation. Her eyes told him that she refused to give up, that she would stand her and drag him from that fire for all she was worth until she lost her last drop of strength. "Please, let me go, Hermione." Her eyes were like a fire, flaring up and desperately consuming all around, fighting to stay alive, fighting to keep him from leaving. Her eyes searched his face, and, as though someone had suddenly snuffed out the flame, her eyes lost all their light. They grew dull, sadness and defeat etched on her beautiful features. She slowly let go of him and he turned and stepped into the flames with a shout. He had not planned on looking back, but as he began to spin and the fire pulled him away from her apartment, he saw her fall to the floor, not as if she had been hurt or had lost balance, but as if she had lost the will to stand, the drive. She simply crumpled to the ground and stared into the fire silently, tears pouring down her face as she watched him spin away._

 

Hermione stopped levitating the body and let him sag on her. She staggered into the hospital, crying. _The fact that I've already been crying and I look a mess doesn't hurt._ "Help! Please help! I found him in the street!"

A nurse rushed over to her. "What happen, miss?"

"I don't know what happened but he looks in terrible shape! I found him in the street! I was just walking past and he was lying in a pool of blood! Oh, please help!"

The nurse signaled another nurse at the front desk, who pressed a button and began to look around, searching for someone or something. "Don't worry, miss. We'll take care of him. Thank you for bringing him in." She helped Hermione support Draco until two male paramedics ran in with a stretcher. In a matter of minutes, Draco was carted off to the emergency room. A few minutes later, Hermione walked out of the muggle hospital, wiping her tears off with the back of her hand, and into a nearby alley, vindictive triumph surging through her veins. She spun on the spot, and landed in front of the new entrance to the Ministry of Magic. She headed to the Ladies' Room, stepped into one of the cubicle's toilets, and flushed herself, spinning out of a fire and into the Atrium. She took a rubber band out of her pocket and waved her wand. The rubber band elongated and increased in size until it was a long, slender box with a piece of twine tying it closed. She untied the ribbon, opened the box, and pulled a slender piece of wood from her pocket. She set it in the box, tied it, and headed up to the main desk.

"Excuse me, but I have a package for one of you staff, a Mister Draco Malfoy. I believe he's with the International Magical Cooperation Department. May I borrow a quill and a piece of parchment?" The kind older gentleman handed them to her and she scribbled a quick note.

_Don't come back and see me again, otherwise you won't be so lucky as to get your wand back. At least in one piece._

She didn't bother signing her name. He would know. She folded it, wrote Draco Malfoy on the front, and tucked in under the twine. "Thank you so much," she said with a smile to the kind man. He smiled back and with a wheezy, "Goodnight, miss," she was back down the Atrium to the fireplaces. As she walked, she took a deep breath, steeling herself.

"I'm not letting him go without a fight. I'm going to make him listen to me."

 

George was still sitting on his couch, thinking. 'How could I have let what that bastard said get to me? He only said those things to hurt me, to make me push Hermione away, and I was an idiot and did exactly what he wanted. What was I thinking?' Suddenly, his fireplace roared into life and out of the emerald flames stepped Hermione, her hair a complete bushy mess, her eyes red from crying, her cheeks stained with tear tracks. She stepped out of the fire and immediately started talking, a look of fierce determination on her face, her eyes hard and blazing.

"George Weasley, I don't care what you think or what you saw or what you think happened. You are the only man I love and if you can't trust me and believe me when I say that, you are the biggest bloody idiot on the face of the planet. I don't care what you say or what you think, I will fight for you. I will NOT let you go." She stood and glared at him, as if daring him to defy her.

He watched as she yelled at him, her face flushed and her eyes blazing with a fierce determination. As she finished her last words and opened her mouth to say more, he rushed up from the couch and in a matter of two steps, had his arms tight around her, his face buried in her hair.

"I will never stop fighting for you, Hermione," he said quietly as he held her close. He felt her bury her face into his chest and wrap her arms around his waist. There was a beat of utter silence before he felt her shake and heard her breath catch in her throat as she broke down. He held her close and stayed silent as she cried, stroking her hair in an effort to calm her. She said something suddenly, but he missed it, having almost mistaken it for a sob. "What?" he asked quietly.

"You idiot," she said, punching his side. He couldn't help it – he started laughing.

"All of the shite we just went through and all you can come up with is 'idiot'?"

She gave a watery chuckle, the side of her face still pressed up against his chest. "Shuttup," she mumbled. He chuckled and held her close, breathing in the scent of fresh, warm laundry and lemons that always seemed to linger around her. They were the bright, comforting scents he always connected with Hermione.

"Don't ever do that to me again," she said quietly, hitting him again, all without moving from his chest, one arm still tightly wrapped around him, as if afraid to let go. He smiled a little sadly and held her close.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice raspy and raw with all the emotions from the events of the night.

"I know," she whispered back. She held him tightly and he did the same, never wanting to let her go, knowing he never would.


	35. Chapter 35

George walked into his bathroom, completely unfazed by the fact that his girlfriend was showering.

"So are you going to tell me what you did with Malfoy?" he asked loudly, making sure he could be heard over the cacophony of the water hitting the cast iron bottom of the tub. He heard her sigh from behind the shower curtain.

"George, I told you I didn't want to mention it. It was rather cruel and unlike me."

"All the more reason to hear about it," he said with a grin, smiling at his reflection as he checked his teeth. He wrinkled his nose and pulled his toothbrush from the cup next to the sink, adorned it with a healthy amount of toothpaste, and began to brush his teeth.

"No, George. Maybe later. Honestly, why do you need to know so badly? You've been hounding me for three days now."

"Two," he tried to say through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"No, three if you count the same night as a separate day. Then yesterday and today; that makes three." George rolled his eyes and spat, bending down to rinse his mouth before rinsing his toothbrush and putting it away. He saw in the mirror a set of toes painted bright red pointed on the edge of the tub, peeking out from behind the curtain. He turned and took a step to the bathtub, trying to be as silent as possible. In one quick motion, he pulled back the curtain and heard a shriek.

"GEORGE!"

"Yes?" he asked innocently, unashamedly checking her out.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "George, put the curtain back." He made no move to do so and she pulled her leg down off the edge of the bath and turned to pull the curtain back. He caught it before she got it halfway across the bath. "George."

"And why would I want to mess up such a lovely view?" She shook her head but blushed, as he knew she would. "Care for assistance?" he teased, moving to step into the shower.

"George!" she cried, half-laughing, half-reprimanding. "You are already dressed, you nutter. You had your shower ten minutes ago!"

"And your point is?" he asked, grinning at her.

"I'm getting cold." He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off. "And I do not currently need your help warming up. Could you please close the curtain?" He silently admitted defeat and moved to close it, but before he got it past Hermione, she leaned forward, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled him to her, kissing his smiling lips. Just as he moved to deepen the kiss, she released her hold of his shirt and backed up to her spot under the stream of the shower. She grabbed the curtain and, with a mischievous grin, closed it.

George stared at the curtain for a moment before calling out, "You're a tease, you know that?"

"Uh huh," Hermione replied. He could hear the smile in her voice.

"And you got my shirt all wet."

"And you don't mind."

Dammit, she was always right. He shook his head, a smile still on his face as he walked out the room. He lay down on his bed and had just started to close his eyes to take a catnap when an owl rapped at his bedroom window. He hopped up and opened the window, removing the letter quickly.

_I'll be ready for it tomorrow. Make sure to tell Harry and Ginny the plan. Luna and Neville already sent the "OK."_

_Lee_

George grinned at the note and folded it up, stashing it in his pocket. Right as he closed the window, the small brown owl soaring across the sky, Hermione padded in, wrapped in a towel, her hair tied in a wet knot and held with a clip. "Are you wearing that tonight?" she asked, glancing over at him.

"Why? Should I not?" He asked, looking down at himself as he headed for his side of the bed.

"No, I just wanted to know so we don't match. I was going to wear a blue top, but since you're in blue, I think I'll wear the green top instead."

"Why can't you wear blue if I'm wearing blue?"

"Well, because we'll look like we're matching," she replied as she began to pull on her underwear and bra.

"No, we'd only be matching if we wore the same shade. Otherwise we're merely complimenting."

She turned from surveying her half of the armoire and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not going to win this one, am I?" She smiled at him and he shook his head before resting it back on the pillow and closing his eyes. "Sometimes I think you over-think things to such a point that it only makes sense to you." He listened to her mumbling to herself as she searched through her clothes.

"Probably," she replied over the sound of hangers being moved along the rack. A few minutes later he heard, "What do you think?" He opened his eyes and saw she had dried her hair into her normal curls that cascaded down her back. She was wearing a charcoal grey pencil skirt and a dark blue, tissue soft t-shirt that clung to her chest, but was loose enough that she didn't look overdone. She looked perfect.

"Lovely," he replied with a smile.

"I figured you could be right this time," she said with a little grin. He grinned back and got up from the bed, moving towards her as she bent to pick up one of her silver ballet slippers. "Have you seen my other shoe?" she asked as she walked around the room searching. He chuckled and began to help her search, finally finding it halfway under the bed. He lay down on the floor and his arm grabbed blindly before his fingers finally hooked onto the back of the shoe. "Oh, thank you!" she said happily as he handed it to her and she pulled it on. They walked out to the living room.

"Okay, gloves," she said, as if reading off a list.

"Check."

"Coat?"

"Check," he replied, already holding it along with his own.

"Scarf?"

"Check." He was holding this as well.

"Purse?"

"I'm still clinging onto my masculinity as best as I can, which behooves me to not hold a purse." She rolled her eyes and walked around the sitting room until she found it.

"Alrighty," she said, and walked towards the fire.

 

"Oh, so you guys will get a kick out of this," said Harry, already starting to chuckle. The table quieted and turned to look at him. "So, I was at the Ministry on Friday, obviously, but I go down to the Atrium because I have to meet someone. So I go down there and he's late, so I'm waiting, and Malfoy bursts into the Atrium out of one of the fires, looking an absolute mess." George sat up a little straighter.

"What does he look like?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"Well, he's got a nasty split lip that's been cleaned up, but it's still pretty swollen, he's all bruised up, got a black eye, his hair is all messed up, he's got blood on his clothes, and, to top it off, he's got medical cotton taped over his nose. Oh, and he's got one of those yellow, plastic ID bands they put on you, like in a muggle hospital." George's eyes slowly widened and flicked to Hermione once, who was silently watching Harry, her lips pursed worriedly. "So he runs out of one of the fires and runs up to the front desk and demands to know if there's anything there for him. And they're asking him why he's here because he's supposed to be in France, and he's shouting at them to just answer his question. He pulls this paper out of his pocket and keeps shoving it in the poor old bloke's face. And then the man goes into the back room and comes back with a box. Malfoy opens it quickly and apparently, someone took his wand and left it at the Ministry. So there's a note and I don't know what it said, but he got real red and basically threw a temper tantrum. He made such a fuss that the medical tape started coming off his nose and I don't know what the hell happened to him, but it looked awful. Honestly, it looked like muggle doctors tried to fix his nose."

"That's 'cause they did," said Hermione quietly. Every head turned to her. "When you have a badly broken nose, they basically have to re-break your nose and rebuild it. It's a very painful process, I've heard," she answered, looking determinedly at her plate. There was a moment of silence before George burst into raucous laughter.

"S-so that's what you did with him? You dropped him off at a muggle hospital and took his wand? That's brilliant!" He laughed harder, tearing up while the whole family stared at the pair of them.

"What?" asked Ginny, watching Hermione closely.

Hermione took a deep breath. The time had come to confess, apparently. "Malfoy came back to town, apparently with the motive of getting back together with me." Ginny and Mrs. Weasley gasped, and Ron and Harry flushed, looking about ready to pound someone's face in. "And he came to my apartment when I was expecting George, and he forced himself on me, and George came and-"

"And beat him to a pulp," replied George, a note of satisfaction in his voice.

"Well, George and I had a bit of a fight, but it's all resolved now, but he left and I was there with an unconscious Malfoy," Hermione continued, George noting that she did not refer to him as Draco, "So I…umm…well, I brought him to a muggle hospital and told them I found him unconscious in the street. And I left and brought his wand to the Ministry and left it there at the front desk."

"What did the note he was showing the old man say?" Harry asked.

"Hope you can get in here without a wand," replied Hermione in a small voice. There was another beat of silence before the whole table burst into laughter. The most surprising, however, was that the one laughing the loudest was Mrs. Weasley. "Molly, I thought you'd be disapproving," said Hermione somewhat nervously.

Mrs. Weasley dabbed her streaming eyes with her napkin before standing up and circling around the table to get to Hermione. "Hermione dear, I'm just so glad you're not with him anymore. You're really part of the family now." She pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Well, she'd have to be married to George to be a part of the family, really," said Ron. George pointedly glared at him from behind Hermione and mouthed _SHUT UP_ across the table. Ginny elbowed him subtly and muttered something to him, making his eyes widen. _Sorry!_ he mouthed back.

 

"So you know the plan?" George quietly asked Harry and Ginny in the kitchen, his eyes constantly flicking to the door to make sure no one was entering.

"Yeah," replied Harry with a smile. "I'll brief Teddy tomorrow morning."

"So I'll have one and Teddy will have one, right?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, I'll send it over tonight when we get back." George rubbed the back of his neck with his hand nervously.

"Oh, stop worrying, it'll all work out," said Ginny, giving him a hug. He hugged her back.

"Thanks. Well, we ought to get back and get going." The trio walked out to the living room and all grinned at the scene in front of them. Ron was sitting in the rocking chair, holding a sleeping Victoire, as Bill had dropped her off, needing someone to watch while he tended to his sick wife. Mr. Weasley was reading the Evening Prophet in the armchair by the fire, Mrs. Weasley was knitting on one end of the couch, and on the other sat Hermione, her eyes closed, drifting off, her arms wrapped tightly around Teddy, who was fast asleep against her chest, his arms slowly sliding from their place around Hermione's neck.


	36. Chapter 36

Hermione woke up and yawned, blinking her eyes, trying to get used to the sunbeams forcing their way through the slats in the window shutters. She heard a yawn next to her and felt movement as George rolled onto his side and wrapped an arm around her stomach, pulling her close to his chest. She giggled as he kissed ear, making it pop, just like they did when you went up in an airplane.

"Good morning," she heard his raspy voice whisper into her ear. She turned over, his hand now on her back as she faced him.

 

"Good morning," she said happily, kissing him. "What time is it?" He rolled over and checked the clock next to his bed.

"Seven o'clock."

"I've got to get going! I've got class in an hour!" She moved to get up, but he pulled her back down, kissing her once more before letting her get out of bed. She hurried to the bathroom, and he heard the water from the shower turn on a second later. He got out of bed and headed to the kitchen to make some tea. He was about halfway through making breakfast when he heard her padding footsteps in the hall and turned just in time to see her walk into their bedroom, wrapped in a towel, her hair already dry and what little amount of makeup she wore already on. He was just setting the snapping sausages onto a paper towel-lined plate when she walked out, clad in a black pencil skirt and a white button down with the sleeves rolled up, her cloak in one arm and her shoes in the other, her hair pulled back into a loose plait. As she walked to the small table, she set down her cloak and shoes on the armchair and smiled at him as she saw he had already made her tea the way she liked it.

"You're so good to me," she said with a smile.

"I know," he teased, earning a swat from her as he set some food on her plate. After they finished eating, she rushed to the bathroom to brush her teeth while he started cleaning up. She headed to the fire but before throwing in the powder, she rushed over to George, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss. He grinned and kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground, making her laugh. He set her down and gave her a quick peck before picking up her cloak and handing it to her.

"I'll see you later tonight," she said as she checked she had everything with her.

"Yes you will," he said, thankful she missed the sly grin that appeared on his face as he replied.

"I love you," she said before stepping into the merrily crackling flames.

"I love you too," he replied with a smile.

 

Hermione was halfway through her day when an owl rapped on her classroom window. She made sure the class was busy working before she headed over and let the owl in. It soared over to the desk and stuck out its leg, to which a note was tied. She untied it and the owl immediately took off, soaring out the window and into the cloudless, blue sky. She unfolded the note to see George's handwriting.

_Need you to pick up something from our dear friend. The nargles seemed to have stolen it._

She laughed to herself and shook her head. 'Nargles, honestly.' Once class was done, she headed to the History of Magic classroom, where Luna was just sorting through some of her papers.

"Hello Luna!"

"Oh, hello Hermione," replied Luna in her sing-song voice.

"Apparently I'm supposed to pick something up from you."

"Oh! Right…hold on…let me…" She searched through her pockets until she found a small envelope labeled Hermione. "Here you go!" She handed it to Hermione and went back to organizing her papers. Hermione opened the envelope to see George's handwriting again.

_So sorry, I guess I left it with the bravest Gryffindor our generation has seen. The one with the green thumb, I mean._

"Seriously?" Hermione asked, incredulously.

"What?"

"It's like I'm on a scavenger hunt!"

"Maybe you are on a scavenger hunt," replied Luna, as though this was the most logical thing in the world. Just then, students started slowly making their way into the classroom, talking and laughing amongst themselves. "Hermione, you better get back to you class."

"Oh. Right. Thanks Luna!" She hurried back to her classroom, but she was somewhat distracted during her next class, busy wondering about what Neville had. Luckily, it was a class of seventh years, so they already knew what to do. As soon as class was done, she hurried to the greenhouses, attracting several odd looks from the students as she rushed by. "Neville!" she cried as she got into the greenhouses just to find they were empty. "Neville!" she cried as she went from greenhouse to greenhouse, walking up the aisles, trying to see if he was hidden by a large plant of a shelf of potting soil. She got to greenhouse three and called again. "Neville! Are you he-AAAAHHH!" she screamed as one of the dangerous plants moved to wrap its tendrils around her neck. Just then, Neville rushed out from behind an array of pots that Hermione recognized as adolescent mandrakes. He shot a spell nonverbally and the tendrils recoiled from around her neck as if burned.

"Hermione, are you okay?" he asked as he rushed over to her.

"Y-yeah," she said, somewhat shaken. "Umm…I heard you have something for me."

"Oh yeah, I do," he said, staring to rummage around in his pockets. He finally pulled out another small envelope, this one covered in dirty fingerprints and green streaks from the plants. Just as happened when she got the letter from Luna, students started hurrying in, not wanting to be late for their last class of the day. "You've got to go, Hermione! You don't want to be late!"

"Thanks Neville," she called as she hurried out of the greenhouse and ran to her next class. She slowed and tried to gain some composure as she got a few yards from her classroom. "Hello class," she said as she walked in, not wanting to seem out of breath or frazzled. "Sorry I'm late." She continued with her lesson as usual, but although she itched to read the note, she couldn't as this was a much more hands-on class with the third year Slytherins and Gryffindors, who were thankfully working well today. When class was finally done, she pulled the letter hastily from her pocket and opened it quickly.

_If you please, could you visit our lovely friend who can't keep it in his pants?_

Hermione burst out laughing and rushed to her office, pulling off her robes hurriedly and dropping them on the floor. She threw powder into the flames and, with a shout, stepped in and spun away.

Hermione burst out of the fireplace in the back room of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and saw Lee was hauling a box from the storage room to the front of the store. "Lee!" she called after him.

He turned around and smiled at her. "Hello, Hermione. George is out right now."

"Actually, I'm here to see you."

"Finally got your head on straight and realized I'm much better looking than your loser boyfriend, eh?" he said with a cheeky grin. She laughed.

"Actually, that's not why I'm here, but thanks for reminding me of my other purpose," she joked. "Actually, I got a note from George saying I had to pick something up from you."

"Oh, that thing. Yeah, he attached it to something when he was setting up this morning. A box of some kind. I don't remember the product."

"Oh great," she said, slightly exasperated. "Another hunt through Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." She set to searching the store, immediately going for the Skiving Snackboxes. There was nothing there. "Dammit," she muttered to herself and resumed her search. Finally, about ten minutes later, she found a small envelope with her name on it attached to a box of Reusable Hangman. She sighed. "I should have seen that one coming."

"Yes, you should have," said Lee amusedly, who had been watching her and adding his own sarcastic commentary to her search.

"You said you didn't know which box it was!"

"Well, I remembered about halfway through, but that would have made it too easy for you." Hermione made a noise of aggravation before ripping open the letter.

_Wonderboy._

Hermione flipped over the card, but there was nothing more than that single word. "Thanks Lee," she called over her shoulder as she dropped the note on the floor and rushed towards the door.

"Oi! You're littering!"

"Oh gosh, I forgot I dropped that. Sorry!" She gave him a wink, her tone sarcastic as she headed out, hearing Lee chuckling at her comment as she left. As soon as she stepped onto the pavement, she turned and was now on the front steps of Grimmauld Place. She opened the door and cried "HARRY!" as she hurried in, closing the door behind her.

"I'M UP HERE!" he called from one of the upper levels. Hermione rushed up the stairs, checking every floor before finally finding him in the attic. Hermione leaned against the doorframe, breathing heavily.

"There are a lot of bloody stairs to get up here," she panted.

"Keeps you in shape," replied Harry, who was going through the last few boxes that hadn't been cleared out. "What brings you here?"

"I'm supposed to get something from you. Something from George."

Harry sat back on his heels, staying in his crouched position, and looked at her for a moment, a look of concentration on his face. "Hmmm…I think I left it in the office." She looked at him blankly. "Sirius' old room."

"Right. Thanks!" She ran back down the stairs to the third floor and ran in. The room was dark and still looked as though Sirius lived there, but had simply grown up. The old bed was still there, clean and rumpled, as though someone had taken a catnap on it, and above it hung the old posters, banners, and pictures of the Marauders. There was now a desk, probably taken from one of the other rooms, on which several files labeled with different case numbers lay, next to a lamp, an inkwell, a few quills, and a few frames. Hermione bent down and looked at each of the frames. The first was a picture of Harry, Ron, and Hermione at Harry and Ginny's wedding. Ron and Harry looked dapper in their jet black dress robes and Hermione was in her emerald bridesmaid dress, her hair in an elegant updo, though some of the shorter curls had fallen out and were framing her face. Harry had his arm around Ron's shoulder, who's arms were wrapped around both Harry's and Hermione's shoulders. Hermione had her arm wrapped Ron's waist. They were all beaming and suddenly, Hermione burst into laughter, the other two following suit. Hermione smiled at the photo and looked at the next frame. It was a rather intimate picture of him and Ginny on their wedding day. Ginny, in her beautiful snow white, strapless mermaid gown, swayed with her hands resting on his shoulders as her lips brushed Harry's jaw line. As they, swayed, Harry came into focus and he tilted his head from where it had been resting, cheek to cheek with his new wife, and kissed her softly on the cheek, making her smile. It was the perfect summary of their relationship, of all they had went through to be together, of all the happiness that filled them now that they were. Hermione teared by a little, but moved on to the next picture, which was a familiar one of James, Sirius and Lupin during their Hogwarts years, laughing and relaxing under the old oak tree by the lake. The fourth frame held a picture of Harry with a toddler Teddy. Harry was bathing Teddy and was completely soaked, laughing as the toddler splashed in the water, his turquoise hair still vibrant through the bubble hat he had on his head. Hermione was so caught up in looking at the photos that she almost forgot why she was there, but her mission came to mind as she saw a letter under the picture of Teddy. She gently picked up the picture and set it back after removing the envelope, which she opened hurriedly.

_She knows more about our relationship than any outsider should._

Hermione was out of the room like a shot. "GINNY!"

Hermione finally found her in her bedroom, putting away some laundry.

"Hey Hermione! What brings you here?" she said, sending her a smile as she put her and Harry's clothes in their respective drawers.

"I need to pick something up that George gave you."

"Oh, I was wondering when you'd come rushing in, asking about it." She picked up another nondescript envelope from the top of the dresser and handed it to Hermione.

_You don't know this story, but he actually had a big part in us finally getting together._

Hermione stared at the letter for a moment before looking up at Ginny to find that she was watching Hermione with a little smile on her face. "Does he mean Teddy?"

"I dunno," replied Ginny, although her tone said quite the opposite. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Hermione hurried out of the room, Ginny hot on her heels, and down the hallway to Teddy's room, where he was laying on his stomach on the floor, drawing.

"Hi Auntie Mione!" he said happily.

"Hey, Teddy! I heard you have something for me from Uncle George."

"Yeah!" he exclaimed happily, sitting up and rifling through his pictures. He set down a picture of two people holding hands, one with red spikes for hair and one with long brown spirals for hair. Then he set down a page that said, written in purple marker, _The place that started it all_. She looked up from the picture to see a smiling Teddy watching her. She leaned forward and pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you, Teddy," she said happily, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"You're welcome!"

She got up, hugged Ginny, and started rushing down the stairs.

"Do you know where you're going?" Ginny called after her.

"Yeah! Thanks!"

 

Hermione stood for a moment, regaining her balance before taking off down the street. She ran into the Three Broomsticks, waved to Madame Rosmerta, and rushed to the back booth where she had meet George after her last scavenger hunt over a year ago. There, in the torch bracket, was another bouquet of fresh lilac branches.

"Gotcha!" she cried happily as she rounded the booth. There was no one there. She searched the table, but there was no letter either. "Wha-" She turned, but her words trailed away as she saw George standing behind her, a smile on his face and his hands in his pockets.

"Had a fun time today?" he asked, a mysterious smile on his face.

"Yeah, but why did you do it this time?"

"I thought it would be fitting. Both were the start of a new beginning."

"What do you-" She gasped as he sunk down onto one knee and pulled a small, velvet box from him pocket.

"Hermione Jean Granger, you are the woman who I have unknowingly loved for years, the woman I fell madly in love with almost a year ago, the only woman who knows how to completely break me and completely heal me. Would you make me the happiest man in the world and become my wife?" He opened the box as he said this to reveal a beautiful gold ring. It was the ring she had seen in an antique store window when they were out shopping. It was three small, interconnecting rings, one made of white gold, one of yellow gold, and one of rose gold. There were no diamonds, no flashy ornaments, just a beautifully simple ring in a beautifully simple box.

She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes streaming, unable to control her beaming smile.

"Really?" she asked, almost a little afraid to believe this was true. He started laughing.

"Yes, really." She gave a little squeal of excitement and grabbed George's arm, pulling him up from his kneeling position. She threw herself onto him, kissing him on his lips, cheeks, anything she could reach. "So is that a 'yes'?" he asked, smiling.

She looked into those deep blue eyes she loved so much and smiled back, biting her bottom lip unconsciously. "Yeah," she replied, a beaming smile on her face.

"I'm glad to hear that," he replied, leaning forward and kissing her like their first kiss, the kiss that started it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Not Rowling.


End file.
